


Sparks

by yersifanel



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Glee, The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Barry Allen and Sebastian Smythe are Twins, Barry Allen: CSI Extraordinaire, Family Secrets, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre and Post Lian Yu, Sebastian needs a hug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yersifanel/pseuds/yersifanel
Summary: With Barry meeting Oliver years before he anticipated, Eobard prepares his contingency plan to keep the Timeline as convenient for him as possible, affecting Barry's life as well as those around him for better or worse.





	1. Barry - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry meets Oliver at a College party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This story was not been revised, I apologize in advance.  
> Note II: Explicit sexual content in this one ya'll.

Anxiety didn't look good on Barry, and he was pretty anxious at the moment. He couldn't help it, his usual respond to the unknown was excitement or anxiety, depending on the situation. A Fraternity College party was a particular case that easily fit into his 'React with Anxiety' category.

Having graduated early from high school meant he didn't go to college parties, even when attending college. He was just nineteen and his looks didn't help him to pretend otherwise, nor his status as King of Nerds, got an full scholarship, will help you if you're nice – that last one gave him friends though, that was good.

His friends, most of them older than him, dragged him to a party, but not just a college party but a Frat Party. Barry had heard horror stories about Frat Parties and naturally he was internally panicking and probably externally too.

There was a moment when his two friends got distracted and one of the Frat boys, probably the one of the organizers, looked at him head to toe like he was fresh meat. Barry licked his lips and smiled awkwardly and the guy advance towards Barry, who pretty much looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

"Hi, I'm Tommy," his greeting was simple enough, a handshake and a drink for Barry that was perhaps way too strong for the younger man.

Tommy dragged him around the place, towards the pool table were a very nice looking guy was finishing a game, punching the air and looking pleased with himself. He turned around to answer when Tommy called his name – Oliver, Barry's brain supplied – and once he spotted Barry, his smile slipped a little, making Barry instantly feel uncomfortable.

"Emh, I think my sister is calling me—" he lamely tried to search for his phone, Iris was not even here, but he refused to be around someone who clearly didn’t like him.

"So soon?" asked Oliver and something is his voice sounded disappointed, making Barry frown.

"It's probably just a text, hold on…" he mumbled, checking his phone and pocketing it once again, "Hi, I'm Barry."

He offered his hand to Oliver and the older man smiled at him, shaking it and moving closer. Tommy patted him on the back.

"You're welcome," he said before leaving them alone.

For a moment, Barry expected the awkwardness to fall over them, but Oliver offered him one of the pool clubs instead, "Will you like to play?"

"Yes but... I'm not very good," he took the club, looking shy.

"It's okay, I can teach you."

"I'll like that."

It turns out, Oliver liked him. The way he moved closer, yet respected his space made Barry feel at easy. How easily he laughed and pointed out Barry's areas of improvement in the game, yet never made fun of him was… kind of cute, actually, because every time he did so, he looked up, as if waiting for Barry's approval of what he just said.

Oliver gets closer and it's Barry who finally decides to do the first move, he walks into Oliver's space, pressing his back against Oliver's chest and asks him to teach him how to hit the pool ball to make it jump over another, it was not an easy trick but Oliver lean over him, and told him how to hit the ball, Barry hit it too hard, making it fell from the table.

Both laughed at this, Barry flushed red and Oliver's eyes shining. Barry jogged to get back the ball, almost colliding with a girl who was holding the solid red ball in her hand.

"Here you go sweetie," she said, but there was something strange in that expression, her smile was full of teeth and Barry felt observed.

"T-Thanks."

"How cute," she purred and waved to a guy behind her. "Cherry?"

The guy gave him a once over and laughed, "Yeah, definitely cherry."

Barry walked back to the pool table, where Oliver was waiting, looking at the two giggling young adults over his shoulder, feeling uneasy.

"Something's wrong?" asked Oliver, taking Barry's hand to retrieve the ball and put it over the table, not letting go of Barry's hand in the process.

"I'm not sure," Barry's mumbled, but shrugged it after a minute, "So, you're from Starling?"

"Yep," he nodded, "But I'll be here for a few weeks, this Business Course I'm taking was only available here and I'm very glad for it."

Oliver looked at him in the eye, biting his lower lip, both too close to each other. Barry rested his hand on Oliver's arm, feeling silly, flustered and exited at the same time.

"Yes?"

"Yes."

It felt like a spark, the moment Oliver kissed him. A spark igniting something inside him and he liked it. He smiled against Oliver's lips, opening his eyes to see the other man, who looked in the same kind of bliss Barry was, it was so strange… Barry never thought he could be capable of putting that expression in someone's face.

The music stopped and there was a loud screech, the microphone too close to the speakers. Oliver frowned and Barry hissed, turning around to see what was going on. A group of people was running towards them and Barry was too confused to react when someone took his wrist and pulled, then another person was pushing him, away from Oliver and towards the other room.

"Hey! No. Stop that," he could hear Oliver, "Barry!"

Barry looked over his shoulder, trying to get off the people pushing and pulling, when he almost lost his balance when colliding with another nervous looking girl, who was as confused as him, both surrounded by people now.

"We're picking cherries tonight!" a girl screamed loudly on the microphone and a boy took it from her, pointing towards Barry and the other nervous looking girl.

"And we got our two best choices, cast your votes!"

"Cherries?" Barry asked out loud but over the noise it was almost too hard to understand, yet the other girl, who looked nervous before now was furious, complete furious and Barry almost felt scare.

"These fucking drunk stupid frat boys," she hissed, angry tears shinning in her eyes.

"What?—"

"They are making a stupid contest, choosing who looks the more virgin," she hissed and suddenly everything made sense.

The girl took a drink from the nearest person and threw it directly over the screaming girl that had been in the microphone, a smirk of triumph upon seeing the drunk girl's surprised face. He sober girl's boyfriend was at her side in a moment, glaring at the drunk organizers and quickly took her girlfriends hand and moved over the sea of people.

"Oh uh," laughed the drunk girl on the microphone, "It's decided them!"

Barry turned around in confusing only to be splashed in the face by beer. He coughed and blinked but he had to close his eyes again when over and over, everyone around him threw their drinks over him, he could even hear "Cherry Bomb" in the background and he felt his heart sink.

Why where they putting him in display? This was not fair. He covered his face with his hands as the alcohol shower continue for another awful long minute, until it was safe for him to lower his hands and open his eyes.

The music was still booming in the background and everyone was looking at him with giggles and smirks, probably too drunk to see Barry's distress. Some people didn’t look amused, some looked angry and Barry was too shocked to move.

He laughed.

A long bark of laughter, hard enough to be believable among drunk people. Barry kept laughing and it made the Frat boy and girl that drenched him in beer first laugh too, and continued laughing to hide the fact that he was in the verge of tears, feeling humiliated and angry, because this was not supposed to happen.

He took a drink from the drunk girl.

"Cheers!" he shouted loudly, waving the solo cup in his hand up, making some of the contents splash around, partially on one of the guys behind him and partially on himself. It didn't matter, this was just damage control and it looked like it was working at some scale, at least he thought so until another drunk girl was about to splash her drink on his face, but Oliver took the red solo cup from her hand and took a swing of the liquid instead.

"Man, that's strong!" he turned around, his bright blue eyes on Barry, who was drenched in alcohol, glassy eyes holding back tears.

Oliver smiled at him and Barry felt strangely warm. He carefully, telegraphing his movements to give Barry a change to know what he was doing, touched Barry's upper arm, tilting his head to a side, "Let's get out of here, yes?"

The music was back on full force, loud and with an annoying beat. Barry closed his eyes for a moment, making a tear mix with the liquid on his face. Oliver quickly moved and hold him, just in time to dodge another couple of splashes of flying red solo cups, shielding Barry from them.

Barry fisted his hands in Oliver's shirt and he tightened his hold on him, turning them around to give his back at the rest of the party, looking over his shoulder to laugh like the rest of the Frat boys. Barry was about to push him away when he turned, his expression dark, angry... but not at him, but in his behave.

"I'm sorry about this," he said, speaking over the loud music, "Come on, let's go?"

His first instinct was to say no, because he just met Oliver but... he was tired and hurting, this display of kindness was something that made things bearable.

"Okay."

Barry took Oliver's hand, firmly, and Oliver smiled at him, tugging to navigate between the sea of people to the back door, where the air hit them and Barry shivered, they would have to walk around campus, soaked wet in beer. As if he was reading his mind, Oliver pointed to another building nearby.

"I'm staying in those apartments, I will lean you some clean clothes, sounds good?"

Barry licked his lips, grimacing at the taste of beer, "Yeah that sounds like a plan."

He was shivering noticeable by the time they reached the apartment complex and Oliver kept checking on him with a hint of worry that grew with each glance. Oliver was quick to open the door of the number 202, inviting Barry inside.

The place was very luxurious, with a large living room with a huge flat Screen, leather furniture, a kitchen, the counter and a mini bar in the corner.

Oliver walked to one of the closed doors, opening to let Barry see the master bedroom, he moved to the bathroom, coming back with a couple of big fluffy towels that made Barry want to wrap himself on them and burrow himself under the covers of the bed.

"Would you like to take a shower?" Oliver asked motioning to the bathroom, "The alcohol..."

"Yeah, it's all over me," Barry gritted his teeth, he stank of alcohol, "Would you mind?"

"Not at all," gently, he took Barry's hand and guided him to the bathroom, "Let me know if you need anything."

"T-Thank you..."

He didn't closed the door, feeling overwhelmed but with the need to know someone - Oliver - was close by, se he left it ajar and stripped himself of those clothes he would probably never use again, turning the shower on and waiting for the water to get warm. Wrapping his arms around his middle, Barry stared at himself in the mirror, wondering if it was really that obvious he was indeed a virgin.

"It doesn't matter," he mumbled to himself. "It doesn't matter."

His lower lip trembled and he gritted his teeth, closing his eyes, moving to the shower stall and under the water spray, drowning a sob.

"Barry?" Oliver slowly opened the door, peering inside, "Are you ok?"

"I'm just cold," he said, and it was partially true, "Can I use your shampoo?"

"Of course, anything you need."

It took nearly ten minutes, but eventually Barry stop feeling cold and no longer smell alcohol on himself or felt disgusting. Washing his face on more time, he smiled a little, now composed.

The towels were indeed big, fluffy and everything Barry wanted. He used one to dry his hair and one to wrap himself. He pushed the door, Oliver was sitting beside it and Barry felt something warm in his chest.

"You should take a shower too, they splashed beer over you too," he remembered and Oliver stood up, nodding. His smile a bit more relaxed now that Barry was not shaking like a leaf.

"Be right back, won't take long."

Oliver left the door fully open, while Barry crawled over the bed, still only with the towels, and wrapped the comforter over himself, not finding the spare clothes Oliver offered immediately and refusing to get back into his ruined ones.

He closed his eyes, feeling... tired. He had been having a very good night, feeling confident, at ease and enjoying the connection he got with Oliver, then everything slipped thru his fingers like water and now, he didn't know where he stood.

The bed dipped and slowly he opened his eyes to find Oliver's blues staring back at him, his hair damn, with only a towel around his waist.

"I'm really sorry about the party," he said softly. "I think hanging around me made you a target."

Barry snorted, "You sure? I didn't know you were that popular, and here I thought I had my obvious status as a 'Cherry' tattooed on my forehead."

Oliver lay on his stomach, supporting himself on his elbows, "You are really something, Barry."

"Am I?"

He shrugged, "I would be pretty mad after that shower, I'm not sure why you are not shouting at me right now."

Barry licked his lips, rolling over closer to Oliver, ending on his back, his head bumping against Oliver's folded arms, "You didn't plan that, did you?"

"No, I had no idea," he moved closer to Barry, his breath over Barry's face. "I like you Barry."

Barry tugged at the towels wrapping him, pushing himself on one elbow to reach Oliver, kissing him like he did while they were in the party. Oliver moved over him, rolling them over to have Barry above him as they made out for a few minutes, when they stopped, both flushed and out of reach, he grinned up at the younger boy.

"You really wanna do this?" he asked, his pupils blow. Barry could feel his arousal against his thigh. "Don't feel like you need to, not after that…"

"I want to," he kissed Oliver's jaw, trailing up and nipping at his earlobe, "That tasteless display has nothing to do with me wanting this."

Oliver hummed, wrapping his arms around Barry's waist and looking for his mouth to kiss him some more, pushing his hips up against Barry's, earning a soft moan from the younger man.

"Let me..." Oliver tripped over his words, instead pushing up and rolling them over. Barry giggled, spreading his limbs on the bed, looking up at Oliver with a flush rushing from his face down his neck. Oliver watched him for a long moment, carefully removing the towels, making Barry blush even more.

"What?"

Instead of answering, Oliver kissed him again, moving to his jaw then his neck, trailing down to his naval with wet kissed, mumbling something about being glad to meet him. Barry's breath hitched when Oliver took him in his mouth, his fingers looking for leverage as he gently closed his hand around Oliver's damn hair, pushing his hips up, gasping and moaning.

Oliver trailed his hard member from the base to the tip with his tongue, distracting Barry as he gently eased the fingers from his hair, kissing the younger man's hip.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Barry took one of the pillows and covered his face, embarrassed. "No, no, don't do that, this is about you." Oliver pushed himself up, taking the pillow again and kissing him again, "You ok?"

With a breathless giggle, Barry nodded, "You are killing me here."

"No, but I do want to make a shivering mess out of you, hmmm...." he trusted his hips against Barry to punctuate his words.

"By all means, don't stop now—oh!"

Oliver had him in his mouth and one finger probing his tight rim of muscles with wet, sloppy fingers, he didn't even notice when he got the lube out, but the sensations... he was drowning in them, his senses catching every touch, every breath, it was so different when someone was touching you, so very different, and so much better.

He was breathing harder and harder, closing his fists, on hand of the sheets, another one on Oliver's hair. He was babbling something and Oliver chuckled around him, making him gasp.

With a wet sound, Oliver moved from his hard erection to his naval, at the same time he massaged and caressed Barry's ass and inner things, running his fingers over his rim and gently proving, until Barry was so relaxed that the invading finger was welcomed inside him.

"Barry?" Oliver asked, "Can you open your eyes for me?"

He didn't even notice when eh closed them, so he opened them slowly to gaze into Oliver's. Who slowly, carefully, added a second fingers inside him and pushed, stroking in a circle motion, making Barry moan loudly. He was so turned on he was sure he would come just from this.

"O-Oliver!"

"Barry," he asked, breathless and Barry notice how turned on he was just from taking Barry to this point.

He's searching blindly for something over the bed and it's Barry who finds it, a silver foil of a condom pack, he offers it to Oliver, who stares at him in the eye, his fingers stretching him open. "Is this okay?"

Something inside Barry melts from pure warm and other feelings he can't put a name on it. "Yes," Barry groans, "Yes, yes, please."

The fingers left him and Barry contains his breath in anticipation, Oliver get the condom on and moves to kiss him, positioning himself between Barry's legs, "Breath."

Barry does and Oliver is inside him. There's discomfort, not exactly pain – as Oliver was so thoughtful in getting him relaxed and aroused – he just feels full. Oliver is kissing his lips, his check and trailing his jaw, whispering in his ear.

"You feel amazing," he tells him and there's a sense of pride there that Barry doesn't understand but it makes him flush and release a breathy laugh.

In a wimp, Barry hooked his legs around Oliver's waist, and Oliver is holding him chest to chest, trusting in and out, once, twice and a third time before changing the angle and do it again.

"AH!"

Barry twitches so hard he almost jumps as Oliver brushed something inside him, he lost the hold on Oliver's hips when he does it again and his legs move involuntary. He's moaning and gasping, Oliver hooks his arms under Barry's knees and bends him in half, full on brushing that spot inside him constantly.

"Oliver, _f-fuck_..."

He's whispering things in Barry's ear as he moves, constantly taking his words away, taken over moans and gasps. Barry hugs him around the neck, putting him impossible close, trapping his aching erection between their bodies and Oliver moves one hand between them, taking Barry in his fist, pumping along his rhythm, until Barry's vision goes almost white, finding his peak running thru him like a wave, he might have scream, he can't tell, but Oliver is kissing his lips, his cheeks and his closed eyelids, telling him how good he is, still moving slowly inside him, taking care of his over sensitive body.

There's a pause and Oliver grunts, low and guttural, burring his face in the crook of Barry's neck, biting his collar bone. Barry's shaking finger run thru his hair and he feels Oliver reach his own orgasm, as they breath loudly, panting in the now silent room.

After a long moment, liver moves, getting out of Barry and rearranging them in a more conformable position, holding Barry against him, kissing his temple.

"Barry?" he asks and Barry can hear the smile on his face, "Talk to me?"

He opens his eyes, his own dopey smile reaching them as he brushes the hair out of Oliver's face.

"Hi," he greets almost shyly, feeling happy.

"Hi," Oliver greets back, kissing him softly. "You're falling sleep on me, aren't you?"

"Well, you did leave me thoughtfully debauched," Barry points out, earning a snort from the older man, "Or well fucked, whatever you want to called it."

"Satisfied?" Oliver tries and there's an actual question there.

"Very," Barry assures him, starting to doze off.

Oliver gets the comforter around them, turning off the lights as Barry drifts to sleep.

\------

_Hi Oliver,_

_How's life back in Starling? I hope that whatever was chasing you give you a break, you deserve to have some calm, even if the main reason your life is so messy is because you made it so complicated, seriously, there's no need._

_Here things are going well, I thing I will graduate early. I got an internship already, just don’t laugh because it's at the morgue. I told you to not laugh! It only temporary, the CCPD is making some changes to their labs and the morgue already has everything, so it's just in the meantime._

_I got your gift, how did you know I like Harrison Wells' investigations? I was looking forward to his book, I heard they have a huge project in the works, a particle accelerator, can you believe it? I will change history!_

_Anyway, be safe!_

_Barry._

\------

_Hey Barry,_

_I was going to tell you that things are not that simple but well… now they are. It think, I'm not sure yet. Laurel didn't punch me in the face, does that count as things going well? And his father didn't get me arrested, extra points for that._

_You are very smart Barry, of course you are going to graduate early. Please gloat all you want, I will find something else to pick on you later to get us even, like the fact that you are a Harrison Wells fanboy. I find that both cute and weird, but mostly cute, so, carry on._

_I'm glad you liked the book, my father's early scoop to stuff had to be useful for something, who better than you, fan boy? Of course, you're excited about the particle whatever, it's like expecting a new Star Wars movie I bet._

_Do you have plans for the long weekend next month? I'll like to see you._

_Take care Barry._

_Oliver._

\------

"I can't believe you cheated on your girlfriend with me," Barry hissed over the phone, his face so red it matched his shirt.

"Ex-girlfriend. I didn't cheat, we were on a break… and I meet you afterwards, so there."

"Did she know you were on a break? Because this looks like a _Rachel-Ross_ situation."

"It was several weeks not hours!" Oliver argued, "And I was… already thinking of ending it… she just said it first… we were… really not working."

There was a beat of silence, "I'm sorry, Ollie."

"It's okay," Oliver quickly said, "I think she likes Tommy."

"And you are okay with that?"

"Yes."

At first, he wasn't, but now…

"Ollie…"

"I'm fine Barry, really," he could hear the smile in his voice. "So, the long weekend, are you coming?"

"Yeah, I got my ticket for Starling."

"I'll see you at the train station."

"Okay!"

\------

_Oliver,_

_I hope you parents are not giving you a hard time. I'm sorry if I caused any fights between you, it wasn't my intention, I'm really sorry._

_Barry._

\------

_Hi Barry,_

_Pick up the phone, will you? You did nothing wrong, please. I want to talk to you._

_I was the one that kissed you in the pool and also the one who conveniently didn’t mention to his parents that he happens to like both women and men. You didn’t outed me, everything is fine._

_Talk to me, please?_

_I'm sorry you had to see that and I'm even sorrier of how rude my mother was. If she talks to you in any way, let me know, immediately, you can trust me, ok?_

_Take care..._

_Oliver._

\------

_Barry,_

_Pick up the phone, write me back, whatever you want, but please don’t ignore me or I'm coming to Central, I'm serious._

_Oliver._

\------

Barry was hiding in his room, he had been miserably for the past two weeks and Iris couldn’t take it anymore, she was about to drag him out when someone knocked the door, she was climbing the stairs when a particular voice she knew happened to echoed in the house.

"Sorry to bother you, sir… I was wondering if Barry is here."

Iris went down and yes, that was Oliver Queen at the door taking to her father.

"Yes, he is," Joe answered, narrowing his eyes. "Who's looking for him?"

"My name is Oliver Queen," his politely smiled, Joe let him in but he wasn't at ease.

Iris pulled two and two together and ran up the stairs. Barry's door was locked, she used a credit card to open it and there he was, his sad bother staring at the celling.

"You're dating Oliver Queen!" she almost jumped, "But something is wrong!"

Barry took a pillow and pressed it against his face, "No, I'm not… I could be but I outed him to his parents and… I think his mom hates me."

"Oh Bear..." Iris jumped to the bed and hugged him, he leaned into her touch. "He's downstairs."

Barry didn't react for a moment.

"What?!"

He jumped, falling off the bed as Iris watched him flail around like a confused puppy that just got dizzy. She smiled at her brother and jumped off the bed to get him to his feet.

"I'll tell him to get here," she didn't wait for Barry's panicked answer, instead ran to get Oliver, ignoring a confused Joe and pulling the bachelor towards her brother's room.

Barry was shoving stuff under his bed and got up really quickly, making himself dizzy for a moment before staring at Oliver with a deer in the headlights expression. Oliver smiled at him and with a few long steps was holding a confused Barry against his chest, Oliver kissing his cheek.

"Are you going to make a habit of hiding when things get complicated?" he asked, not unkindly.

Barry wanted to push him away but not really. "I outed you."

"No, I outed myself," he clarified. "Also, I am very sorry, I wasn't thinking and it was not fair for you."

Barry looked at him oddly, "You weren't thinking?"

his voice was tight, had Oliver's display of affection been a mistake?

"I should have talked to my parents, letting them know I'm dating a pretty awesome guy," he said, as if reading Barry's mind and wanting to ease his fears, "I... was too coward to do it and preferred to just... let them see... and that wasn't fair to you."

Oliver lowered his eyes, while Barry was thinking about everything. He liked Oliver, very much, and while he was mortified of being the cause of Oliver's discomfort, it never occurs to him that it had been Oliver's actions all along that were pushing him there, unintentionally. From their encounter in that party to the not-actually-cheating and the disaster weekend in the Queen Manor.

Barry chewed his lip, closing his eyes, "Oliver... do you actually like me?"

The words were soft, not an accusation, but they made Oliver alarm all the same.

"What? Of course, I do—"

Barry raised a hand to stop him, making a motion for him to give him a second to collect his thoughts. "It's just... perhaps you just need someone, anyone, to come to terms? To have a reason to stop fighting with Laurel... to open up to your parents..."

Strong yet gentle hands cupped his face, encouraging to look up. Oliver's eyes stared at him, an almost panicked expression on them. A silent scream.

"I like you, Barry Allen," he declared. "I stalked you for a week back in CCU, that's why Tommy literally pushed you to me in the party, he was sick of me looking at you longingly and doing nothing, I... I thought you were out of my league."

"What?"

It was almost laughable, that Oliver thought Barry was unreachable, it made the younger man giggle, he couldn't help it and Oliver's pout made the silly giggle in a full snort.

"Yes, please, laugh at me," the pout was there, full on and Barry couldn't control his snickering.

"Oliver," he began," You can have anyone you want, you're Oliver Queen!"

He looked unimpressed, "Would you have dated me if I came out of nowhere and asked you out?"

Barry stopped laughing. "...No, but—"

"Yes?"

"It would've feel surreal, I didn't know who you were at that party, now I do."

"And you didn't change your mind."

"You are different... from the stories, I mean."

He shook his head, "I'm really not... But I want to be."

Barry frowned at him, Oliver adverted his eyes but searched to take Barry's hand. After a moment, he looked up to Barry's eyes and smiled, shyly, almost softly.

"I really, really like you, Barry..." he shrugged helplessly, "I've never liked another guy like this before, I've feel attracted to them, made out and full around but... you were just so... shinny."

"Shinny?"

"Like a goddamn ray of sunshine," Barry raised an eyebrow, "It sounds ridiculous, I know but... I don't know how to explain it Barry, is... words fail me, which only happens with people I like too much... Laurel," he squeezed his hand, "You."

Barry was blinking back tears, feeling too emotional to come up with a proper answer. Instead he framed Oliver's face with his hands and kissed him softly, asking for a moment without words, so he could gather himself and his feelings.

It was a bad idea, Oliver was an emotional storm and Barry had never been stable either. He had a solid foundation that even in the face of tragedy continued to be strong, a lot of bad things could have happened to Barry, a lot of bad turns, but he was here, safe and sound, for the most part.

"I... don't want to be some sort of rebound," Barry said, because he needed to say it, "Or your security blanket."

"Barry—"

He kissed him to shut him up, before continue, "But I want to be with you Oliver, I really want to... because I like you too, very much."

"But?" Oliver asked, his voice low, as if he was already expecting it.

Barry shook his head, "No but, I'm not going to lie, this makes me nervous... yet I want to give it a try."

Barry nodded, interlocking his fingers with Oliver's. This was probably a bad idea, but it might be the best bad idea he had ever had.

\------

Joe gave Oliver a very intimidating shovel talk that almost makes Barry hide under a rock and never come out, the only reason he didn’t was because Oliver was too busy looking a Joe with a straight face and nodding a "Yes, sir."

Once that was done, Oliver chuckled and Barry was read as a tomato, mortified that they were dating for less than three hours and he already had an embarrassing story to tell. Oliver found it refreshing, while Barry decided that his boyfriend – such a weird thing to say – was weird.

It was going back and forward after that, Oliver would come to Central or Barry would visit him in Starling. At some point Oliver actually spoke with his parents and eventually introduce Barry to them once again, this time as the person he was dating. Robert's smile was hiding some confusion and so was Moira's, but at least they were at ease.

For a while, their relationship was easy, almost dreamlike, and Barry didn't want to wake up. Reasonably, he knew it was not going to last, at some point they would move forward or move back, he couldn’t tell just yet, but being afraid of tomorrow was only giving him anxiety, so instead he focused in today.

They were young.

Oliver was… complicated, sometimes Barry didn't know how to deal with him. He was doting, frequently spoiling Barry as result, but sometimes he would use a gift instead of an explication or a talk and Barry, afraid of being rejected, would accept it. Both knew it was not how it should be, yet were so afraid of losing each other that preferred to brush it away for another day.

For the most part, their relationship was good. Barry got to meet Oliver's friends and particularly got close to Sara, while Tommy and Laurel – whom were dating each other, as Oliver predicted – looked at him like a younger brother.

He got close without even trying, just being himself and it was more than enough.

Thea loved him, and Moira eventually did too, she even told Barry that he was the best that could happen to Oliver, and thanked him for being with her son. Step by step, Barry became an important part of Oliver's life and that scared Oliver more than he could imagine.

It was after Barry's last trip to Starlight, when things changed.

\------

Oliver was avoiding him, Barry knew that much.

He wasn't surprised, but it hurt anyway. Barry wanted to believe that their long distance relationship could be strong no matter what, that Oliver could keep his word and Barry could trust him, it wasn't like Barry didn’t give Oliver reasons to trust him, they kept regular contact and Barry always tried to be honest, even in things that make him anxious to share, like his own fears and insecurities.

In turn, Oliver was honest as well and Barry found out how hard was for Oliver to stay with him not because he didn’t like Barry, but because for some reason, Oliver terrified of commitment. Barry didn’t pressure him, really, they didn’t even live in the same city, and so their long distance relationship was an unspoken method for Oliver to deal with his own issues.

Barry pretended to be fine with it, not the long distance, he could handle that, but Oliver's need for it.

"Are you afraid, Oliver?" he asked him over the phone.

"Of what?"

"Of me," Barry sighed, " Of changing because of me, or getting hurt because of me."

Oliver was silent for a long moment, "…I don't know."

Smiling sadly, Barry lay on the bed, looking at the picture of him and Oliver that rested in his nightstand. They were in the stairs of the Queen Mansion, Barry was making a victory sing while Oliver looked bemused, it had been one of their date weekends, and Thea had taken the picture.

"I think I love you, Ollie," Barry whispered, unsure if he was going to regret saying it when he heard Oliver's breathe hitch.

"Barry, I…" the silence stretched and Barry blinked back tears.

"It's ok," he assured Oliver, his voice breaking a little, "Its ok, Ollie."

"I'm sorry."

The line was cut and Barry closed his eyes, letting go of the phone.

\------

_Hi, this is Oliver. Leave a message._

Barry sighed, looking at the phone before dialing again, getting a voice mail once again, this time Barry decided to leave the message instead of trying again.

"Hey Oliver," he began, "Talk to me, please? I… I didn't meant to pressure you, I just…. I'm sorry, if I did something wrong."

He pressed the end bottom, hoping Oliver would check his phone. Barry was giving him space, even if that appeared to be the only thing that Barry did lately, as if was what Oliver seemed to need. Maybe he should have put a bit more pressure, encourage Oliver to talk face to face, or something. Barry was just hoping that this fight wouldn’t be their end, because he was sure he loved the other man, even if that scared him more than Oliver could ever know.

"Be safe," he mumbled to the phone.

\------

_I'm sorry Barry._

_I did something stupid and it's not fair to you._

_I will make it right, I promise._

_\- Sara._

\------

There was a feeling Barry hoped to never, ever, experience again. A feeling that consumed his breath, burned his lungs and crushed his heart, shattering in more pieces than the stars.

He couldn't breathe, his vision was blurry and the sound faded, he could see the news, Oliver's picture in the feed, the Queen's Gambit lost in the storm Oliver with it, he was gone, gone forever.

Barry didn't hear himself scream, nor did he feel when his knees gave up under him. Iris was holding him and Joe was tilting his head up, telling him to breath but he couldn't, the air won't come, his lungs were burning and his heart was so broken it hurt in his chest.

His last message to Oliver didn't even reached him, he wasn't able to say how he really feel, and now...

"No," his voice broke the silence in his ears, shattering the moment, "No, no, nonono, please no! Oliver!"

Iris was holding his face, Joe was at the phone, pacing from side to side and Barry... was feeling small and helpless all over again, like that night when his mother lay dead on the floor and his father was taken away.

He was gone, Oliver was gone.

"No, no, please no," he kept begging to no one, life itself maybe, he couldn't tell.

He was in agony, screaming and begging to no one, with Iris trying to calm him down and Joe holding him because he was trashing and choking on his own tears.

The news feed showing Oliver's smiling face and Barry gulped air.

"Oliver," he choked, "Oliver..."

He rocked in Iris' arms, feeling so broken and lost for the second time in his life, crying his heart out until he passed out.

 

 

 


	2. Sebastian - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian gets his life turned upside down, from bad to worse.

Sebastian was eleven years old when he found out he was adopted.

Well, adopted was a loose term. He was not the biological son of the persons he called mother and father. Something even his own mother was not aware until today as well and she was having a very heated conversation about the subject.

"You _stole_ him," his mother, Cecile, whispered, both her and his father unaware he was hiding behind the door.

Richard Smythe was pacing the room, "No, I— our baby was gone, and that doctor! I just— He's our son Cecile!"

"Yes!" she was firm, at least she was not pushing him away. "He is _my_ son, _my_ baby boy and not even _this_ will change that."

"Cecile..."

"I don't care Richard, tell that man to go hell because he's not getting _my_ son," she marched out the room, stopping at the door, "Fix this!"

Sebastian sneaked out before his mother – was she still his mother? – spotted him, going back to his room in a rush, playing to be asleep just in time, as Cecile entered the room.

"Mom?" he pretended to be awake just now, rubbing his eyes, "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Cecile sat on the bed, hugging her son in her arms for a long moment, Sebastian hugged her back – Yes, she was still his mother. "Everything is fine my dear, everything."

He was too young to understand and too afraid to ask because he might not like the answer, so instead he acted as if everything was still the same.

Shortly after that, they moved back to France, first to his grandparent's house and then one of their own, and stayed there for five years.

Life goes one. Sebastian was usually good ate pretending to be fine, and after his eleven birthday, he became even better at it. But it was just that, pretending.

He walked his way through high school in a rebel face that his father couldn't figure out and his mother was just equal parts worry and confused of how to deal with. There was no manual of how to raise your kids, certainly there was no guidelines of how to raise your charming, stubborn, self-destructive, homosexual kid.

Cecile gave Sebastian free range to be himself, perhaps too much free range because she was scared of losing him, although Sebastian never knew what she could possibly lose him to. Yes, he knew he was adopted – or stolen, apparently – but never confronted his parents about his discovery, he was a Smythe in everything but blood and he was fine with that.

So, he made terrible mistakes in high school, indirectly was part of a bullying that almost got someone killed, cheated, blackmailed and generally was an awful person treating everything like a big joke, because everything was fun and games, until it wasn't.

Sebastian forgot that he used to be a good person, and when he realized that he was ashamed of his own actions.

The summer after what he considered the worst year of high school – Not because it was bad for _him_ but because _he_ was awful to almost everyone – Sebastian decided to turn a new leaf and "be good" even if "it sucked" as he pointed out with humor once or twice.

Mistakes were made once again, not his idea this time at least, and by the time he finally graduated high school he was ready to run away to a new country or something.

He just turned seventeen, when the foundation of his life was so very roughly pulled under him.

Sebastian came home to find his mother sick, very sick... she was dying and there was nothing to be done about it.

Until there was.

A man visited Richard Smythe late at night, soon after they were fighting and Sebastian left his mother's room – were she was hooked to so many machines it hurt to see – to find his father pinning the stranger to the wall.

"What's going on?" he asked, concerned and ready to call the police.

"Go back to your mother Sebastian," his father said instead of answering, his eyes on the strange man.

"So, this is Sebastian," the stranger said and his father hit the wall besides the man's face.

"Don't even look at him, you have _no_ right."

"I have every right," the man insisted, his smirk was almost cruel, it send a shiver down Sebastian's spine.

"Father?" Sebastian walked closer, the stranger was trailing his movements, "Who is this man?"

The stranger moved, pushing Richard away and fixed his suit, running a hand over his light brown hair and smiling at Sebastian, it feel fake.

"My name is Eobard Thawne," the man introduced himself, "I'm your blood relative."

Sebastian chuckled, "No you're not."

"I, in fact, am."

Eobard produced a large envelop from his coat, opening to reveal several papers with pictures and other records that looked official from where he was standing, but that could mean nothing.

"You are my sister's son, you were taken away from her the day you were born and this family, while I'm quite happy they treat you well, can't deny the facts," Eobard stood straight, looking furious, "They stole you."

Sebastian walked towards his father, who was trembling as he read the documents. There was a declaration by a Doctor Giltmore, a picture of a very pretty woman with a child that looked a just like Sebastian when he was ten years old, hospital records, police reports and more. He felt overwhelmed, because even thinking he knew he was adopted he didn't have to face it until now.

"Why are you here?" Sebastian glared at the man, "What do you want?"

"To find you," Eobard answered, taking a step forward, "I lost my sister and my nephew to a tragedy six years ago, and I made the promise that I would find you, because that what's sweet Nora would have wanted."

The world was spinning around him, that woman in the pictures, she was his biological mother? And that child was his brother?

"My mother is upstairs," he said with a firm voice even thinking he was shaking, "And my father is right here."

Eobard smiled sadly at him and Sebastian hated him a little, "Dear child, I know this is confusing, but please allow me to explain."

Sebastian shook his head, he didn't want to hear this.

"Leave," Richard said, his poker face back.

"No, I will not," Eobard insisted. "We can resolve this by talking or involving the authorities."

Richard stepped before Sebastian, blocking him from Eobard who was getting way too close, but Sebastian's legs were shaking and he had to sit down in the closest chair or fall on his face, this couldn't be happening.

Eobard took the silence as an invitation to talk and Sebastian hated him a little more.

He was the son of Nora Thawne, Eobard's sister as he showed them. She was carrying twins, but the night they were born the Doctor in charge, a man going by Dr. Giltmore, made a mistake. He was intoxicated and an innocent bay paid the price.

Cecile was in the same hospital, and the doctor, drunk and in negligence, was incapable of saving Cecile's baby. In turn, Nora delivered two healthy boys and the Doctor, trying to cover his negligence, made everything worse.

The Doctor declared one of Nora's twins dead – Sebastian, read the certificate, his father kept the name – and gave him to Cecile and Richard Smythe.

Her mother – Cecile – didn't know, not until six years ago, Sebastian remembered that fight. It was after that that she acted as if Sebastian was going to be taken away from her, moving out of the Country, running away from something Sebastian had no idea bout.

That something as standing before him.

Eobard talked how Nora always had a feeling that something went wrong that night, that the baby they buried was not her Sebastian. Many called it grief, and she lived with it, yet never giving up on the idea of finding her missing son. It was Sebastian winning a contest that gave light to her feelings, Eobard told them, because she saw the living reflection or her surviving twin son in the newspaper.

Sebastian gritted his teeth, it had been when he was ten, he won a spelling bee contest, and it seemed so far away now...

"You looked just like Barry," Eobard explained, mentioning his twin's name with an odd tone, "And she started to investigate... that didn't sit well with you father."

Richard took his son's hand, Eobard was not talking about him. He was talking about Nora's husband, his biological father.

"He... well, something was wrong with him and one night, he robbed Nora and Barry of their lives."

Sebastian chocked on air, feeling lightheaded.

"I made a promise to find you, for her, and I was so close six years ago, I even confronted his man about it, he denied everything."

The fight. Eobard had been the reason his mother realized he was not her biological son, yet firmly kept him, leaving the Country to not lose him to a stranger, blood be dammed.

Sebastian stood up and walked away, ignoring his father's concerned voice and Eobard's callings.

In his mother's room, she remained unconscious, too pale and too unmoving. Sebastian sat on the chair next to the bed and held her hand, because he was so afraid right now, con confused and he needed her, more than ever.

There was shouting downstairs, it became livid from time to time, but Sebastian didn't move.

"Mom," he whispered, "Mom... please?"

His eyes sting with unshed tears and he pressed his forehead to against the bed, muffling his sobs while his mother remained in a dead-like sleep.

\------

He didn't like Eobard Thawne and refused to call him _uncle_.

"Sebastian, be reasonable," the man said again, "You are a minor and you are my nephew, the test results are very clear."

"I don't care," his answer was stubborn and childish and he was not sorry for it.

"I know this is a very difficult change, but is for the best."

Sebastian glared at him, "I'm not leaving my family."

"I am your family, Sebastian."

"No," he gritted his teeth, staring ahead, "My mother and father are."

"You mother is dead and your father in prison."

"They are not!"

"Nora and Henry are," Eobard reasoned and then, moved to look at Sebastian in the eye, "And so will Cecil and Richard."

"No," he was angry but he was also very scared, "You're lying."

Eobard looked at him as if he was a child unable to see reason, "Cecil is sick and Richard will face kidnapping charges from my part."

Sebastian paled, "You wouldn't."

"Why wouldn't I? They stole you."

He felt small, pathetic and lost, "Please don't do it."

Eobard had all evidence in his favor, Sebastian knew he could put his father in jail, and his mother, already sick and week, wouldn't last on her own. Eobard knew this as well, slowly he patted Sebastian's head and held him against his chest, Sebastian almost screamed but didn't move, tense and afraid in the other man's embrace.

"You can help them, Sebastian," Eobard whispered in his ear, "I won't press charges against Richard, I will provide the right scientific contacts to save Cecil... I can make this possible, but you have to help me do it."

"How?" he asked, looking at the door and yet unable to move to reach it.

"Come with me," Eobard offered. "Just like Nora would have wanted."

He wanted to refuse, because he didn't know this man. But his mother was dying and his father could go to prison, and Sebastian... Sebastian didn't want that to happen.

Surrendering, he pressed his face against Eobard's shoulder and cried, whispering a broken acceptance, unaware of the older man's triumphant grin.

\------

Life with Eobard was... asphyxiating.

The man was over him all the time, especially when Sebastian was choosing his carrier mayor. Eobard aggressively suggested – almost imposing – for Sebastian to take a scientific carrier, thinking the teen will go for something in show business due his linking for the media.

Sebastian choose Medicine, something he had been thinking for a while now. Eobard looked satisfied, even thinking Sebastian didn't go to pre-med because this stranger that called himself his uncle wanted him to, but because he really wanted to do something good for others.

He applied for CCU, SCU, Hudson, Midway City and others, for some reason Eobard wasn't happy with Central and Starling specifically. Sebastian resisted the urge to roll his eyes and antagonize the man.

"I got into Hudson," he said holding the acceptance letter, he had actually been accepted in all of them, but without his knowledge Eobard got rid of the CCU y SCU letters.

"They have an excellent medical and scientific program, it will do you good."

Sebastian just nodded, he couldn't wait to leave, but if as if Eobard was reading his mind, the man continues, "And you won't have to move on your own."

"Excuse me?"

"There's no need Sebastian," Eobard moved closer to him, placing a hand of the nephew's shoulder, "Our home is close to the University, you don't need to live in the dorms."

Eobard tightened his hold and Sebastian shacked it off, looking offended.

"What is wrong with you?"

"I have to keep an eye on you, I won't let anything to happen, not again."

Sebastian shook his head and left the house, ignoring a Eobard calling for him. He just wanted a moment to himself, to get pass all this confusion. In his turmoil, Sebastian took a train back home, to his parents.

Cecile was slowly but surely recovering, apparently, she was in an experimental medical treatment sponsored by STAR Labs, monitored by Harrison Wells himself, the very same man Eobard mentioned.

For a moment, everything was well and Sebastian thought that he could have his life back.

That was his mistake.

The police came to arrest Richard Smythe, and the stress of the situation gave Cecile a near fatal episode.

In the crisp white waiting room, Sebastian was found by Eobard.

"How could you?" Sebastian whispered in anger, pushing the older man.

Eobard fast – so fast – switched their positions, pinning Sebastian to the wall himself, "We had a deal Sebastian, I'm proceeding accordingly."

"No," he denied, feeling helpless. "Please just... I will do whatever you want!"

Sebastian was taken into a hug. It was an aggressive gesture, Eobard's nail digging into his shoulder and lower back as he hissed in his ear, "You only get this chance."

"Okay," he answered, angry tears stinging his eyes, "Okay!"

"Good."

The charges were dropped and Sebastian was forbidden from contacting his family again, or as Eobard called them, "his fake family", because Eobard was his blood, not them.

Sebastian's anger boiled inside him, but his parents were safe, and he had to take that as a victory.

\------

Flirting came natural to Sebastian, it was like a second nature to him. In College, it was easier to do so, even in the chaos that was studding Medicine, at least in this space he felt like himself.

It was not the first time he made out in a closet with a hot guy. It also was not the first time he was caught doing it. However, this time he was confronted with Eobard's furious glare and it sit bitter in him.

He tried to past the incident, tried to reassure his potential date that his uncle was not even supposed to be at Hudson today, it was a coincidence, he tried to play like everything was going to be fine.

It wasn't. Of course, it wasn't.

His date ditched him and so did every other guy he even looked at, suddenly everyone was anxious around him, some even cold and plain rude.

Sebastian tried to play it cool, there was no reason for everyone to give him the cold shoulder after all. Yet, people continue to do it and soon all his interactions in College well strictly professional. Eobard requested him to come directly home and decided Sebastian will help him like some sort of assistant to occupy his time.

Slowly, Sebastian lost all autonomy of his life. Decisions were made for him; his words were not listen by anyone and Eobard label everything "for his own good."

He was completing an essay in Eobard's study when he once again felt tempted to run away, but his parents' safety was first.

"Sebastian, could you bring me the documents over the desk?"

"One second."

He retrieved the papers when someone pressed a cloth over his mouth and nose from behind and he felt the world fade to black.

\------

He woke up in a silver-white room, with only the small bed he has laying on as furniture.

"What...?"

He was dressed in white scrubs, no socks, a bracelet on his wrist with numbers and trapped in a small room with no windows or something resembling a door.

Remaining calm was almost impossible, he stood up ignoring the nausea and patted the walls for an exist, yet finding nothing. Suddenly, a man phased through the wall, and Sebastian was sure this had to be a dream.

"Sebastian," the stranger said, his eyes glowing red. He was dressed in yellow and his face was unfocused, Sebastian could only see his glowing red eyes, "It's time for you to be useful."

"Who are you?" he tried to scream but his voice was cracking, his mouth dry, "W-What do you want with me?"

The man in Yellow was over him in an instant, pinning him to the wall, "Your composition."

In the blink of an eye, he found himself strapped to the bed, two needles in the back of his hands, attached to some bags of liquids he had no idea what they were, but they burned.

"Stop!" he screamed, his veins on fire, he could feel the liquid flowing, "STOP!"

But the man in yellow didn't, he just stood there his hand extended with some sort of hologram telling him about Sebastian's vitals.

This had to be a nightmare, his mind insisted, and even through the pain Sebastian refused to lay still, to surrender, trashing in his bonds and cursing his captor.

When the pain reached his head, growing like if someone was hammering his skull, he felt like he was going to die.

"Interesting," The Man in Yellow mused, his creepy voice barely understandable.

Sebastian was panting and drenched in sweat when the bags were finally empty. His throat raw from the screams, curses and accusations he spat the whole time. His body was on fire, and he was sure he was burning from the inside out.

The Man in Yellow ran his gloved fingers through Sebastian's damn hair before closing his fist.

"This time your life will be something useful, Sebastian," he hissed, almost laughing, "Be grateful for that."

He was left alone in the room after that, in the dark until consciousness slipped away.

\------

"Sebastian?"

Eobard sounded concern, but Sebastian was too sore and tire to care. Opening his eyes was an effort equal to running a marathon but he did it immediately when he felt his uncle's fingers touching his forehead.

"Where?!"

"Don't get up, you will make yourself sick," Eobard firmly, yet strangely gentle, pushed him to the bed.

He was in his room, in Eobard's house, not the strange white tiny space where that man... The Man in Yellow...

"How did you found me?" Sebastian asked, because at least he was in a place he recognize.

"You have not gone anywhere, Sebastian," Eobard told him, a frown on his face, "I found you on the hall, passed out… it seems you have a very high fever."

Sebastian closed his eyes, he could still see the Man in Yellow, "It was a nightmare?"

"You have been the whole time," Eobard assured him. "I've been watching you."

It wasn't comforting, but it had more sense that being abducted by a man whole moved in the blink of an eye, having a fever made even more sense that being torture.

"I just had a bad dream," Sebastian concluded, although he was not completely sure about it, "I'm tired."

Eobard chuckled, "Drink some water and rest, Sebastian, you will be back to normal soon."

He felt awful, because Eobard's words managed to calm him and Sebastian hated him even more for that.

\------

Sebastian felt that by directing all his focus and attention to his studies, he might be able to live a somehow normal life.

It was just another wall, because Sebastian was very aware that his uncle was not a good person, not matter that everything he did was for Sebastian's "own good."

He knew the signals, the ringing alarms. Eobard insistence on knowing everything he did, segregating him from others, hyper-vigilant of Sebastian's every move, controlling every step he took and promptly redirecting him if the direction was not of his liking. All this was not normal, it was not healthy and surely not good for him, and Sebastian was aware of it.

But as months turned into years, Sebastian refused to let himself be label a victim, even if his fight did nothing to chance his situation.

He fought as hard as he could, with the limitations he had. But it was not enough, still it was something, even if it only helps him to not lose his sanity.

Sebastian insisted that his abduction was not a stress dream or whatever Eobard wanted to call him, because it had to be real, the pain sure enough was.

Still, his _uncle_ didn't believe him and blamed everything to Sebastian's rebellious nature, still not accepting him as the person who had reason and only look for his own good.

It was frustrating, and going to a shrink that constantly tried to convince him that Eobard was right didn't help. The Man in Yellow was not a nightmare, it was as real as the fear, pain and suffering he brought Sebastian every week.

Nobody believed him, not that there was anyone for him to talk to anyway.

Sebastian stopped talking about the Man in Yellow, but he was, with no doubt, his victim.

\------

Waking up in the white room never fail to send him into a panicked state. He remained immobile, staring at the ceiling while strapped to the bed with meddles in his arms pumping unknown substances that would make him wish for everything to end.

How could Eobard don't believe him when he said this was real? Didn't he disappear from hours – days? – At a time and came back looking pale and sick?

But the bruises were not there after a while, his arms were tender and his muscles sore, but there were no marks, no evidence, nothing to help Sebastian's case.

Maybe he was insane, after all. Perhaps Eobard was right in locking him up in the house, limiting his time strictly to College and looking after him like that, who wouldn't when the evidence screamed loudly?

The shrink gave him pills and he never took them, until Eobard forced them down his throat "for his own good."

Sebastian stopped fighting after a while, when months became years.

One particular night, just after his twenty second birthday, everything came to a stop.

The Man in Yellow took him to a different room this time, some place with machinery and those dreadful chemicals.

"It's time," his captor said, pushing Sebastian against the wall, between two racks dilled with crystal bottles, and disappearing by walking through the sealed door.

The place hummed with the sound of the machine behind him turning on, the lights and heat burning his eyes and the air felt thin and made him dizzy. Suddenly there was pain and the chemicals broke and splashed him and the machine roared and emitted a power wave that sent him crashing against the wall.

He fell, his skull cracked open, his ribs broken and blue light roaring over his skin, sparkling, sinking in his flesh, blood and bones.

Sebastian screamed.

It hurt like nothing he had felt before. The blue light hissed and moved around and inside him, he arched his back as he screamed, feeling his veins burn, his bonds mend and his vision fade.

"I'm going to die," he whispered in a broken voice and laughed because of course he was going to die. He really was going to die it seem. He had been dying for five years and now he felt it coming to an end.

"Not yet, not yet, please…"

 

 

 


	3. Oliver - I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's fears and hopes for second chances, before and after Lian Yu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Transition chapter, more about the twins is coming next!

 

When he asked Sara to come with him, he was running away from his own fears by pretending to be someone he no longer was. When they went into the boat, Oliver knew he was doing something very stupid, as he was three steps from making a mistake that he will probably regret the rest of his life and lose the one person he really cared about…

But he was so _scared_.

Truth was Oliver was terrified of what he was feeling, what those things meant and where it could lead. There were many things he should have said, but he was just too afraid of destroying what he had with Barry, thus he had no idea how to actually move forward. He couldn't even admit to himself that he _more than liked_ Barry, because by doing so things would advance to another level and from there, there was no turning back, and he was afraid of wrecking everything up.

Distance was in invisible barrier between them. In distance, Barry trusted Oliver and Oliver did the same. In his mind, Barry was not the kind of person who would cheat on him, he was after all too good for Oliver. Himself though? He was more than capable of screwing everything up, ironically by being afraid of doing precisely just that.

It was a calculated move, just the right amount of words and touches, opening a door and giving wings to Sara was… not a nice thing to do, not only for Barry but for Sara herself. He wasn't proud of what he did. He really liked Sara, but he more than liked Barry.

Sara was smart enough to see through him, of course.

"I'm not doing this, Oliver," She looked so guilty and sad, gazing over the sea around them with watery eyes, a sad smile on her face, "Barry is my friend and… I shouldn't have come, this is wrong."

Sara was right, but Oliver already knew that. He pressed his lips together and extended his hand, asking for Sara's. Reluctantly she took it, silently but firmly putting a wall between them, one to stop both of them from precisely ruining everything around their lives and the people they cared about. It was almost funny, tearing things apart was the very same thing Oliver was afraid of doing yet was moving towards that with each mistake and wrong decision, because… because he was not brave enough to love Barry.

"I… " Oliver began, feeling desperate, "I'm sorry Sara."

He was sure she was going to pull his hand back but she stood there instead, eyes cast down, shinning with tears of a mixture of emotions Oliver couldn't name. Looking up, Sara nodded.

"I'm sorry too," she said, her voice cracking a little but she smiled. "I like you Oliver and I'm pretty sure you like me too, but you like Barry _even more_ and that's… that's something I don't want you to lose."

Oliver chuckled, it was a wet sound, as he was containing his feelings, "I don't deserve him, I'm and idiot and a coward and he's too good for me."

She laughed, shaking her head even in between whatever she was feeling, "When you put it like that it sounds terrible."

"Isn't it? I don't know what to do."

Sara moved to frame Oliver's face with her hands, "You should be _better_ , for him."

"I don't know how," his admission frightened him, but it was the truth.

"Well, then you should figure it out," Sara tugged him towards the inside of the boat, "So, once we're back you are going to go to see him, apologize, thousand times over and then ask him for a chance to be better, because he deserves a better you, the you he loves."

There was a great part of him who was afraid to recognize the fact that Barry loved him. he loved the Oliver who talked with him in silence, the one who shared his ideas for the future and the many things they were, he loved the person usually Oliver was trying to hide, but for some insane reason Barry saw beyond the surface, just like Oliver wanted him to.

If this is what Oliver wanted, why did he have to be a damn coward and not take it? He was angry at himself for such foolish fear.

"How come you are this wise?"

They moved over the bed and Sara rolled her eyes, shaking her head, "I'm not wise _at all_ , if I was I wouldn't have even thought of being part of this, I was going to let you _cheat_ on Barry, I was going to help you! And…. That's not wise," she had a flush on her face, embarrassment and something else perhaps, " I just felt guilty enough to admit I was being stupid before doing even more damage."

Sara bit her lower lip and took Oliver's face between her hands, kissing his lips softly, she wanted to have at least this. Oliver closed his eyes, feeling the kiss as what it was, a goodbye.

Once they opened their eyes, smiling to each other, it felt right, even with the storm closing around them and sealing their unknow fate. When the world turned over and he lost Sara to the sea and his father to a bullet in the head, Oliver felt utterly and terribly alone, lost and afraid.

But he had to survived… for his father, for his city…. For Barry.

There was a crumbled picture of Barry in his pocket, where he was smiling so brightly it warned up his heart even in the cold of the island, it was something he kept close, because someday he wanted to see that smile again.

The island changed him; it planted darkness in his soul. A growing storm that nobody could see but it was there, always under the surface, lurking and moving him in ways he never thought possible. He found hope and despair, love and hate, companionship and betrayal.

He found Sara and lost her all over again, like he lost Shado and Slade. All of them in different ways that burned his soul and pierced a memory in his mind, walking in the shadows, becoming part of them and drowning his own light in order to survive.

Days turned into weeks, into months, into years, until time decided his comeback was due.

Oliver wasn't the same man that boarded the Queen's Gambit, running away from himself. Now he was a man with a mission, a list and the remembrance that over all that darkness, perhaps there was still some light to be found.

\------

Surviving Lian Yu was only part of the path he was now walking.

The camera flashes are like a storm he had forgotten even existed. The media was welcoming him with something he can't describe, it supposed to be awe and amazement of him being here after five years presumed dead, he supposed, but all he can feel is annoyance.

These people don't know him.

He had crafter a fake smile and Tommy welcoming him back with a potential party is the perfect wat to go back to his playboy tactics, to a mask, yet…

"I do want a party," he tells his friend, who has given him a steady ground to walk even if he is unaware of it, "But I have to reach a few other people first."

Tommy smiles at him, "Laurel, you mean? Because I know you want to see her, It's just…"

"She has the right to hate me, Sara followed me into that boat and now she's gone," he would never deny the guilt he has in that, "I own her an apology."

"It won't be easy, I can tell you that," Tommy knows this, after all he is the one Laurel choose to be with, the one she is closer to.

"But more than that I want to go to Central, I need—" After all this time, he needs to at least try to make things right.

Tommy takes his arm, firmly, "No you don't."

He gives his friend a hard look, but there's also confusion there and maybe a bit of panic that he manages to hide very well, his mask not cracking at all.

"Tommy—"

"Don't look at me like that, it's not what you think!"

Oliver narrowed his eyes, deciding to show only confusion in his expression. His friend was smiling, too carefree for something bad being on the way, who Oliver refrained from thinking the worst case scenario.

"I need to see him."

"He's here, Oliver," Tommy continue, unaware of the shake he just gave Oliver with that pause, "Barry? He works for the SDPC, best CSI they have if you ask me."

There's pride in Tommy's voice and that makes Oliver wonder how close he got to Barry in these five years, more than he could tell in plain sight, it seems. Oliver smiled and it was something real this time, Barry was walking towards being a Forensic Scientist, it was something he wanted to do and had plenty of conviction for, Oliver was glad to hear he made it a reality.

"Here in Starling?"

He wondered since when Barry was living in Starling City and why would he choose to, yet he was wary of the answer. Perhaps he had to do with it, but the world didn't move around Oliver and it was egoistical of him to think himself the cause of Barry's choices, even more so after he was gone.

"Almost two years now, he got an offer and decided to move, I was very happy to see him," there was something soft in Tommy's eyes, "We reconnected and it was good you know? He's a good person, a great friend."

"He's doing fine?"

Oliver wants to know, because one thing that he kept in his mind through the darkness of the island was that out there, the people he loved were living, out there someone was thinking of him, even when he didn't deserve it.

Tommy looks at him in the eye, there's wonder in his gaze, "Why am I telling you about him when you clearly should be going to see for yourself? You were ready to go to Central, after all."

"Somethings should be said face to face."

Apologies, promises, confessions…. More than anything, he felt the need to see Barry again, because he should have never run from him and part of him knows that perhaps it's too late, but even with that knowledge he wants to see Barry again.

"Then let's go!" Tommy guided him to his car, "I'll take you to where he lives, I'm not sure the time he's coming home from work, sometimes he stays there long pass his shift, but I think he's not even working today, sometime about asking for a half day off, anyway."

Oliver walked towards the car, already forming words in his mind to say to Barry, "I can wait."

"Yeah, I'll give him a call as well, just to know he's coming, do you want me to tell him you're here?"

"I—"

Oliver heard them before he saw them and his mind set changed completely upon the attack. He didn't have time to answer because of course his return didn't go unnoticed and someone decided to kidnap him and Tommy as collateral.

Well, he had to take care of this first, and then go to Barry.

Lian Yu planted darkness in him and Barry was perhaps too bright for such thing. Oliver didn't want to stay away although, it was perhaps selfish on his part, yet it was the possibility of coming back, among other things, that kept Oliver sane through the hell and purgatory that was Lian Yu, with only a crumble picture of bright, pure green eyes looking at him.

He came back to save his city, and maybe save himself as well.


	4. Barry - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver is back in Barry's life.

Barry was way past the age of running away from home to try to get to Iron Heights to see his father, now when he wanted to do it he just made plans for the visit.

"How's work, slugger?"

Henry smiled at him and Barry felt himself smiling as well, even when he was not actually feeling happy, at least he was not hurting, and that was good enough for now.

"Challenging, I know there's crime everywhere but Starling's mafia are keen to let everyone know they are there, it's like they want attention," he rolled his eyes.

Henry snickered, "But are you well? You have not requested a transfer back to Central."

"I'm very well, although I think I'm giving Detective Lance an ulcer, he worries too much," that made Barry smile, "When I accepted the job in Starling, I thought no one would be able to worry as much as Joe does."

"Well, he just wants the best for you," Henry said, "That's why he didn't want you to move to Starling to begin with."

"I needed it, dad... I just..."

"It's fine slugger, I understand."

Originally, Barry was going to be working for the SCPD for a few months in an investigation project, but a few months became a year and so he was living away from Central and it helped him more than he would like to admit.

It was strange, how being in the city that reminded him of the one he lost helped him, when being away from such remembrance was usually better. Perhaps it was because here he could confront his own reality or, in the worst case scenario, he needed the nostalgia Starling gave him to breath.

Whatever the case, Barry was in Starling City and someday he would gather the courage to live it behind, along with his memories.

Not today, thought.

He spent most of the afternoon with his father until it was time to leave. Barry watched the guard get him and proceed to leave the prison, hoping that someday he would be here and his father will leave Heights with him, as a free man.

The trip from Keystone back to Starling was uneventful, mostly he spend his time dozing off as he heard music. The ride gave him time to relax and not think, also that way he could pretend everything was fine, and gather strength to go back to his daily life. Once in the train station, Barry walked around people, too focused on his own mind to notice everyone around the screens hearing the news, until he heard the name Oliver Queen.

Coming to a stop, Barry turned around. The news were reporting that after five years thought dead, Oliver Queen had been rescued from an island in the North China Sea.

Barry sat on the ground, right there, not even able to reach the nearest bench, as he stared into the space between the screens and the wall, the sounds around him muffled to his senses.

"Sir?" one of the guards asked after a few moments, "Do you need help, sir?"

Barry blinked several times, slowly and awkwardly getting up, almost falling if not for the guard's helping hand.

"I... I need a cab."

"Sure, let me get you one," the guard smiled at him, there was worry in his expression.

Getting to his apartment was a blur and the last thing he expected was to find Oliver standing before his door, staring at it.

"You are alive," Barry's voice broke, barely able to catch Oliver's attention, who quickly turned around to look at him.

"Barry—"

"You were gone," he took a step closer, "I lost you."

Oliver gave him a painful expression and moved closer, unsure if he was allowed to touch Barry after all this time. It was Barry ho threw his arms around Oliver, because he was not sure if this was real.

"I can feel you," he shuddered, "You're real, you're really here."

"I'm sorry," was Oliver's response, his face pressed against Barry's temple, "For everything, I'm very sorry."

Barry should be angry, but he was just so damn grateful that this was not a dream that he couldn't must other feeling but relieve.

And he forgives Oliver just like that, because he would never be mad at Oliver for being alive.

\------

Oliver was here; his hand in his and Barry was still having troubles to believe it was happening. When the Queen's Gambit when down, so did a part of Barry, that part of his life whit blonde hair and blue eyes, a striking smile that could stand against the world but hide behind the fear of doing so.

That part was alive, after all.

"Must have been terrible," Barry said, his eyes fixed in Oliver's fingers interlocked with his, "Five years in a deserted island."

Oliver's eyes were casted down, his brown frown in concentration. Barry assumed he was looking for something to say, Hearing Oliver was something he thought would never do again. Afraid of forgetting his voice, Barry made a recording of Oliver's voice before the line was disconnected. It was perhaps one of the few things he never told anyone, but he listen to that recording for five years, until now the real deal was with him.

"I'm not the same," Oliver said softly and tried to retrieve his hand from Barry's, but the younger man tightened his grip.

"So much that you will leave me so soon?"

The tone was not an accusation, on the contrary, it had resignation all over it and Oliver felt a pang of pain in his chest, he was the one who put that tone there.

"I don't know how to get this back," he admitted, glancing Barry up and down. "How to get us back."

Barry lifted his eyes to look directly at him, a frown on his face, "Do you want to?"

It was a simple question yet Oliver didn't know the answer, instead he leaned over Barry, cupping his jaw and softly pressing their lips together. The kiss was chaste, with a great deal of feeling in it and Barry understood that, five years in an island was something that changed anyone, from deep inside to the surface, and now Oliver needed more time.

Barry ended the kiss, but rested his forehead against Oliver's, his eyes closed.

"I'm glad you are here, Ollie," he said, "And I will say this again, no matter how much it scares you."

"Barr..."

"I love you, Oliver," his voice was almost timid but he had been in love with this man for years now, and not even his temporary dead was not capable of changing it. "Don't forget that."

Oliver was silent for a moment, then moved to peek Barry's lips again, "I won't."

The silence remains for a moment and then Oliver is pulling away and Barry lets them, clear disappointment in his face.

"I need to _gain_ this," Oliver suddenly blurts and Barry doesn't know what he is talking about, "It's not... It's not about me, you are amazing Barry, and I'm not."

"Are you pulling an _it's me not you_?" Barry doesn't look impressed. "Because it you are, you need to be honest right about now."

"No," Oliver laughs, softly, almost complete and Barry smiles back a little, "But if I'm going to have a second chance with you, I want to _earn_ it."

Barry sees something in Oliver's eye, something he labels as a need to prove himself and that makes Barry wonder what happened in that island that put such thing in his gaze, if it was endless solitude or something else.

"You get this chance," Barry grants him, wondering if he could meet Oliver all over again.

Oliver stood up, leaning over to kiss the top of Barry's head and walked away, looking at him over his shoulder before closing the door.

"Thank you, for giving me this chance."

\------

Barry has always been very perceptive of certain details, his exceptions being where those who he loves are involved. Not because he didn't pay enough attention to them but because he got blinded by his own feelings. This time, Barry didn't allow himself to get blinded by his love for Oliver, instead he paid attention, and found bits and pieces that required assembly.

When he accepted the job in Starling, he did it because he was trying to give himself space to stop being blinded by his love for his family. Joe was as much as a father as Henry was. He had been the one who took Barry in, who supported him after a tragedy that turned Barry's life asunder and almost destroyed him. He was grateful for that and he would never stop loving him, but... it hurt, that Joe didn't believe him.

The Man in the lighting, the storm around his mother, the reason she's dead...

Iris, sweet Iris, had a strange concept. She believed Barry believes he saw something, but not that such something was real. She was supportive, she even opposed out loud to some of the therapist's results back when they were teens, because for her, even if the man in the lighting was not real, she was sure Barry saw something.

It was... comforting, at least.

For a while, Barry wouldn't speak about the man in the lighting. He would visit his father in jail, avoid about his mother's case and generally pretend he was living in denial, because there was nothing that could convince him his father was not innocent. True to be told, he was tired of no one believing him, until Oliver.

Oliver was always supportive, he believed Barry, even thinking what he saw was impossible, but Barry's sole conviction was enough to make Oliver certain that he was not lying. When Oliver was gone, one of Barry's few pillars in life was lost as well.

Now Oliver was back, but he was different yet he still believed Barry, even more than before for some reason he wouldn't speak about, at least not openly, only reassuring him that he more than ever believed the impossible existed.

Barry felt Oliver was locking up his own secrets, and he wonder when Oliver would be ready to understand he did not have to endure such thing alone. He had a feeling it would he would have to wait this one while sitting down.

In the meantime, Barry had to get some sense of normalcy back into his life, now featuring Oliver in it.

"Allen," Detective Lance called him from the door, Barry turned around to answer, "Hutson said you had the files?"

"I was bringing them to you, detective, just finish the last report," he answered, placing another page in a labeled folder.

"Might as well come by," Quentin Lance gave him a side smile.

There was no doubt, in Barry's mind, that Joe was in contact with Quentin Lance. He probably was the one to ask the SCPD Detective to keep tabs on him, either that of he made in impression on Detective Lance. Whatever the reason, Quentin had taken a liking of Barry as more often than not made sure the young CSI was doing well.

"This nutjob is making my job more stressful," Quentin growled, "I didn't think that was possible."

Barry tilted his head to a side, "The Vigilante."

"Yeah, that guy, The Hood or whatever they're calling him, I don't like him, he's a murderer."

"The Hood is an unpredictable element," Barry closed another file before putting it in the pile, doing an effort to mislead Quentin with his comment because he didn't think the Hood was that bad.

Well, mostly.

"Please don't tell me you think he's a _hero_ ," Quentin almost spat the word and Barry couldn't help but snort, "My daughter first and now you?"

"No, no, Detective," he quickly said, smiling, "I just don't know what to make of him."

Quentin leaned over the desk, "He's not one of the good guys, Barry."

Blinking, the younger man frowned. Quentin called him by his name when he was making an emphasis; he was talking to the guy he was fond of and not the CSI he worked with.

"I know, Detective," Barry smiled sadly, "A lot of people want to make a good guy out of him, but we really don't know anything about his motivations or intentions, just that… some of his downs have had positive results."

"And consequences," Quentin pointed out, angry.

Barry just nodded, as denying the true was not helpful, "We don't know where he stands."

"Exactly," there was frustration in Quentin's eyes, "Not to mention the body count."

"That too."

Barry knows there's more to _"The Hood"_ than a body count. His target's resources have been distributed; something good coming out of such violent events at least, because it turns out The Hood is more than a killer.

Other thing Barry doesn't want to mention to Quentin is his suspicious about Laurel Lance's involvement, as her name is starting to stand out in the Hood's cases, thus becoming a patter. He's keeping that thought to himself only because he respects Quentin too much to see the man having a mental break down in the middle of the station. Barry has the feeling Quentin is aware that his daughter is involved anyway, but trying very hard to deny it.

He wasn't surprised when Quentin decided to bug the phone Laurel got from the Vigilante; really, he should have seen that coming.

From there, things were a bit more complicated, yet less black and white. The Vigilante's M.O. was not as set in stone as before, he was saving people instead of just dropping bodies, and that for Barry counted a lot.

He knows more information about the Vigilante by each day passed, but only technical things. Like his self-made arrows, the costume material, his strange camouflage choices, among other things. The guy was very good in covering his tracks, even with a bugged phone and a Task Force looking for him.

Barry felt proud, which was a weird thing to feel about a stranger.

\------

Over time, Barry felt he could label his emotions pretty well and right now he knew what he was feeling: Panic.

That's exactly what Barry felt the moment he saw Oliver being escorted to the station, as suspect of being the Vigilante. Barry rested his right hand against his chest and moved towards his lab, trying to breathe in and out.

"This can't be happening," he mumbled to himself.

Even if Oliver was the Vigilante – something Barry didn't want to think he was, for some personal reasons that had to do more with Oliver's safety than anything else – being here meant Oliver was in danger, because If he was the Vigilante, it meant he had been caught, if he wasn't then this display was just unfair. 

Oliver had done a lot of stupid things in the past, a fair amount of them before meeting Barry, who gained knowledge of them by word of mouth from Laurel, Sara and Tommy. This was a whole new level, not because Barry thought being the Vigilantly was stupid – he had some sort of admiration for the guy he was still trying to understand – but because getting caught was not fine at all and the mere idea that this incident could leave Oliver behind bars just when he got him back was bad enough to leave Barry gasping for breath.

He still wouldn't believe Oliver was The Hood, even when he had thought it more than once. The connection between the two was not exactly thin. Oliver coming back from the dead and the Vigilante surging in Starling was not something he could ignore, he wasn't a CSI for nothing, but apart from that there was another series of reason that might was well point towards Oliver, and Barry wasn't just good at ignoring them, but it was _Oliver_ and therefor Barry was more than compromised.

Instead, for his own peace of mind, he hold onto the fact that the evidence would have been substantial, if didn't lack foundation, which it did; a time frame was not enough. Everything that could point towards Oliver at this point was more akin to a coincidence than evidence, thus investigation couldn't really use it as a reason for a _conviction_ , but it was enough for an _arrest_.

Barry took his phone out and scrolled to his contacts to a number he had dialed a lot of times before, someone he trusted enough to call for help when he was unable to provide it himself.

"Hello?" a female voice called, "Barry?"

"Hey Laurel," he greeted, his voice shaky.

"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, and bless her for her intuition.

"I need a favor, well... Oliver needs a favor, please don't hang up!"

She sighed, Barry could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose as they speak, "I'm not hanging up on you Barry, and... I'm not turning Oliver down either, tell me, what's wrong?"

"Oliver has been arrested," he explained, "On charge of being the Vigilante."

There was a moment of silence, her mind catching up with the implications, the people involved and everything around that statement.

"My father did _what_?!"

Barry chuckled in between his panicked breaths, there was the Laurel he knew and love.


	5. Sebastian - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian endures life in the white room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, references to experimentation and torture, and The Reverse Flash being a horrible person towards Sebastian.

He felt drained, even breathing was too much of an effort, and so he laid on the small bed in the windowless white room and remained motionless. He could feel his body, every inch of it as it was on doused fire, slowly mending itself back together from the deep roots to the surface. Being aware of each cell of your body was, in all due honesty, driving him _crazy_.

"Open your eyes, Sebastian."

"Go away..."

His captor chuckled and in one firm yet not unnecessary cruel movement the Man in Yellow seized his chin with one hand and with the other forced on of his eyes open.

"I can see the lighting," me mumbled and Sebastian hissed, "Hm… Blue, I wonder why…"

The younger man snorted, even if it hurt him like hell to do so, "Because I can tell you what the hell happened, right? Is not like you tortured me and did who knows what for whatever reason."

The Man in Yellow let go of him and Sebastian opened his eyes on his own, narrowed, to glare at him from the bed while his captor spoke.

"You are an experiment, serving a higher purpose, and I need results."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, he was complete sure by now that Eobard had to know about this man randomly kidnapping him in weekly basis, because there was no way this was just in Sebastian's head.

"Yay," he deadpanned and closed his eyes.

The Man in Yellow placed a hand over his chest and Sebastien didn't move, but his mind was screaming, "I can feel the _speed force_ but... it's not the same flow."

"What, you don't like the river flowing in me? Well _excuse_ me."

There was a slap and the pain sting in his right cheek, Sebastian giggled because what else could he do? Antagonizing his captor was the only thing that gave him some sense of control, even when he knew he had none.

"Petulant child."

Sebastian rolled to his side, back towards the Man in Yellow and glared to the wall.

"Just leave me alone," he sighed, "I don't even understand what you're babbling about."

He expected pain and the Man in Yellow didn't fail to deliver. He yanked Sebastian off the bed by the hair and in a blur, he was in another room. A large and high hangar that hummed like some sort of machine.

"Run."

"What?" Sebastian used the nearest wall for leverage, looking at the Man in Yellow in disbelieve. He barely could move, let alone run.

"Run Sebastian," he echoing voice of the man said again, "Before I catch you."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, refusing to shake in fear even thinking he was feeling it, this was a nightmare.

He ran.

The Man in Yellow didn't follow, but he was barely able to keep himself straight, he was not running fast, not enough for someone who could move faster than he blinked anyway. This was just a cat and mouse chase where the damn cat already won, what was the point?

He felt a hand in his hair and he was roughly yanked from the floor and tossed against a wall. He felt his wrist break and he had to scream because he couldn't hold back his reaction, tears stinging in his eyes and a sob caught in his throat.

"That was pathetic."

"Fuck you!"

Another blink, another hit and he pain exploded in his face, his left eye so swollen he couldn't open it. Another blink, pain blossoming in his knee and he tripped, the sickening crunch in his ankle didn't even surprised him, he just screamed because why was this happening to him?

"Behave, Sebastian," the mocking voice told him, gloved fingers stroking his sweat soaked hair, "And watch your mouth."

He curled into a ball, his broken wrist cradle to his chest, his broken ankle supported in his opposite calf, trembling in pain for a few moments before putting up and act.

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," of course he wasn't, but he also had some sense of self-preservation, "But that's fine."

The man moved and in a blink he was back in the white room, his wrist and ankle in a cast.

Sebastian stared at the wall with the eye that was not swollen shut and blinked tears of pain. He hated the Man in Yellow more than anything he had hated in his life.

The lights went out and he was alone in the humming silence.

\------

Sparks of light ran inside him, under his skin and around his wrist, ankle and eye. Warm, blue lighting.

_Everything is well, child._

_Who is there_ , he asked back, but he was not awake, he was not moving. _Hello?_

_I'm sorry my child, but never doubt, you are mine, even if different... as your brother will be._

_What?_

_Rest now._

The light ran inside him, from head to toe, and the pain faded.

\------

"Impressive."

Sebastian growled because of course the Man in Yellow was watching him as he sleeps, the creepy bastard.

"You are completely healed, and only in a few hours."

He snapped his eyes open and sat on the bed. The casts were gone; both his eyes were fine, he wasn't in pain. He flexed his fingers and turned his wrist, every inch of his body felt fine.

"How...?"

"Looks like you weren't a complete failure after all," the Man in Yellow hissed in his distorted voice, "You do have the speed force, even if we don't know how it works on you yet."

Sebastian, glared at him, arching an eyebrow, "Why do I expected you to make sense? My bad."

The Man in Yellow laughed, "As charming as always."

Then the Man in Yellow was gone, and a tray with food was left over the bed, it was more than usual and that was just fine for Sebastian because he was starving.

He vaguely wonder when he would be returned to Eobard's house this time, but he didn't care really. Eobard was not his family, no matter how much he said he was. The man had gone to all sort of legal process to take Sebastian from his parents, or as he claimed, take him back.

After the last incident – with his father in prospect of facing a life time in jail and his mother dying without the proper treatment –  Sebastian stopped fighting Eobard. In return the man had changed Sebastian's last name to _Allen_ , limited Sebastian's interaction with the whole damn world, and pretty much micromanaging his life, not to mention allowing this Man in Yellow to kidnap him, because there was no way this was just in Sebastian's head, shrinks be dammed.

He still didn't get why the name change. As far as he knew, Allen was his biological father's last name, the man who _murdered_ his mother and brother, why would Eobard want him to have it?

He ate, studying the corners of the white room that was no more than a cell for him and wondered, what was the point of everything the Man in Yellow did to him? Also, what the hell was a speedster and that speed force thing? Something related to speed, obviously, but what was it?

Sebastian sighed and lay on the bed, recalling in his head the last lesson he attended in school, perhaps fooling himself into the notion that someday he would be a Doctor after all, if the Man in Yellow didn't kill him first.

The Man in Yellow returned, taking him back to the metallic hangar to run and Sebastian refused to do so, it cost him a broken arm that healed in a few hours. Later, the Man in Yellow was in his room, his uniform open to let him see his own arm, open from elbow to wrist, blood dripping on large drops.

"What the fuck?" Sebastian moved away from him, only he was forced onto his knees, the Man in Yellow presenting him with his sliced open arm.

"Use your lighting," he hissed at Sebastian, his voice menacing, "Do it."

"Fuck off!" Sebastian pushed him away, he could bleed himself to dead for all Sebastian cared.

"You're not listening."

The Man in Yellow stood up and in a blink, was gone, leaving Sebastian wary and confused about what his ever-present nightmare wanted from him this time. Whatever it was, Sebastian refused to help him.

\------

Time went by, Sebastian had no way to measure it so he had no idea how long it was until the Man in Yellow showed up in the room again, this time with a frightened child with him.

"What're you doing?" Sebastian got up immediately, the little girl didn't look older than ten, "Don't do anything to the girl."

"I won't," the Man in Yellow said, but his glowing red eyes and distorted voice were no reassurance, "Her wrist is broken and you will fix it."

Sebastian moved, forgetting about being afraid and took the girl away from the Man in Yellow, sitting her in the edge of the bed, she was sobbing loudly.

"I wanna go home," she hiccupped.

"I know princess, but it's going to be ok, let me look at your wrist?"

She was clutching he injured right hand against her chest and shook her head, Sebastian waited patiently until he allowed him to look at it, it was definitely broken.

"What happened, princess?"

"I fell," she mumbled. "I was looking for my mom and fell down the stairs."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, wondering where she was before the Man in Yellow took her.

"I don't have the equipment to make a cast here," she said to the Man in Yellow, glaring over his shoulder.

The Man in Yellow was at his in a blink, his hand over Sebastian's, forcing him to touch the girl's wrist, "You don't need it."

The blue light, Sebastian remembered. The thing that had healed him, the Man in Yellow was talking about that energy that ran under his skin and mended his bones, but he had no idea how to use it.

The Man in Yellow pressed harder, but Sebastian stopped himself from hurting the girl. "All right, all right, let me try!"

"Do it."

Gently, Sebastian cradled the girl's wrist in between his hands and smiled at her, trying to give some reassurance even he had no idea what he was doing.

"It's gonna be fine," he said softly as the girl sniffed back another sob, "Just close your eyes and breathe deeply for me, ok?"

The girl did so and Sebastian felt the light running inside him and moved it towards her. It hurt, like bleeding, but he keep on doing it until the little girl's wrist was not swollen, watching as it healed before his very eyes, even if it was hurting Sebastian in the process.

The Man in Yellow looked pleased, or as much as he could look over his blurry demonic face.

"Good."

Sebastian's head was pounding and he didn't notice the blood running down his nose until the little girl gave him a confused look. He touched the wet spot, and shook his head, trying to soothe the girl again, only to have her disappear in the blink of an eye along with the Man in Yellow.

"HEY!"

He abruptly turned around and the world gave a spin and another, the lost his balance and feel face first to the floor, out cold.

\------

He woke up in the narrow bed, this time the straps were back around his wrist and ankles and he had a needle in the back of his hand attached to a bag he hoped was not another weird chemical. It didn't burn, so that was progress.

"Where is she?" he asked, and the Man in Yellow was standing at his bedside a moment later, "The girl?"

"Back to where she belongs," he hissed, "As you are."

"I don't belong here," Sebastian pulled at his restrains and the Man in Yellow laughed.

"But you do," he kneeled at the side of the bed, his gloved fingers combing the lose hairs from his face. Sebastian spat at him and received a slap for his gesture.

"I hate you."

The Man in Yellow didn't say a world, but continue stroking his hair and Sebastian closed his eyes in disgust as the older man continue his petting and invasive touches, creeping Sebastian out by the second.

"I've never seen the speed force react like this," the distorted hiss carried fascination in it, "I supposed that it's its unique print in you."

Sebastian moved his head to a side, looking at the man in the eye, his red unsettling eyes. "What do you want from me?"

He had asked this time and time again and yet the answer was the same. The Man in Yellow chuckled before getting up.

"Everything you are, for a mayor purpose," The gloved hand rested over his chest now and Sebastian knew this was no good sing, "Sebastian..."

Sebastian pulled at his restrains, closing his eyes, panic swelling in his chest as the Man in Yellow moved over him, hurt him or touch him, Sebastian didn't care, he just wanted him away.

 _Please!_ he begged to no one. _Somebody!_

Blue light, no, blue _lighting_ chirped around him and the Man in Yellow backed off, his blurred expression unreadable but his body language stating confusion. Sebastian's restrains were electrified and he pulled again, this time they gave in.

"Stop fighting," the man stepped closer and in a cry of panic Sebastian extended his hand towards him, a blue flash crashed against the Man in Yellow, scorching the symbol on his chest.

Sebastian wasted no time; he untied his feet and looked around the room, patting the walls for an exit he had never seen before.

"Please, please, please—" he repeated under his breath in a litany until the blue spark moved around his hand and fried something in the wall. A door opened.

Sebastian saw the Man in Yellow in the ground and ran for the door, only to be blocked by the same man in the blink of an eye. He took him by the neck, crashing him against the wall, both hands cutting his air supply.

"You will make yourself useful," the Man in Yellow hissed, "Stop this nonsense."

The edge of Sebastian's vision was going dark, his fingers bleeding as his broken nails clawed at the man's covered arms.

"F-Fuck y-you!"

The Man in Yellow chuckled, "Always charming, but you have a lesson to learn."

In time that took Sebastian to blink but he was back in the white room, trapped as he has been all this time. He cursed his luck and once again tried to pad the walls to open the hidden door. Another blink and he was against the wall, his head pounding where he hit it.

"Sebastian?" a voice asked in confusion, the voice of someone he knew.

Opening his eyes in surprise, Sebastian found his father in the white room, he looked disoriented and a little dizzy. Sebastian quickly got up, ignoring the blood in the back of his head and ran to his father, who immediately hugged him back.

"Dad," his voice was not contained, too much emotion in it. He wanted to ask a million questions and he didn't get the chance, as the Man in Yellow snatched him from his father's arms and tossed hi against the wall, holding Richard a few feet from him.

"You should have _listen_ , Sebastian," le man echoed and Richard looked over his shoulder, his expression darkening for a second before turning back to his son.

"Bas," he said, levering his voice in calm while Sebastian was screaming already, "Look at me Bas, just look at me, it's okay son, it's going to be fine, just look at me."

"Do as your father say," the Man in Yellow hissed and Sebastian looked into Richard's eyes, his own shinning bright with unshed tears.

"Dad…"

"I love you, son," Richard stated with a warm almost soothing voice, "I love you—"

Time stopped, everything was moving in slow motion and so quickly at the same time when Sebastian saw the Man in Yellow vibrate a hand across his father's chest. Sebastian moved as fast as he could, catching Richard before he hit the ground but it was too late.

"Dad?" the tears obscured his vision, his body shaking and the Man in Yellow stood there, impassive. "Daddy no, please Dad, no, please, Daddy…"

The Man in Yellow crouched besides him, whispering in his ear, "This is your _lesson_ , Sebastian… do as I say, or pay the price."

Sebastian hunched onto his father's body, shaking with sobs. The Man in Yellow disappeared out of the place with a whooshed sound, leaving him alone with the man that called father his whole life, now dead because of him.

"I'm sorry," me mumbled against his father's chest, "I'm so sorry…"


	6. Barry - III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry takes on a dangerous mission.

There was a time when Barry believed he was slowly and unintentionally becoming the bane of Moira Queen's existence.

From being caught kissing Oliver by the pool to formally date her son, Barry didn't feel proud of the reactions he generated in Moira, so he was fairly surprised when, after Oliver was gone, she didn't shun him away. In the service they held with no casket and no body, Moira actually pulled him closer and into a hug. He held her with the sentiment of two broken people mourning the same person for different reasons.

During his relationship with Oliver, Moira slowly got familiar with Barry, in polite terms at least. She was obviously trying to be more than just civil for his son's sake and Barry did his best to ease her efforts, he didn't want to be the bane of her existence, he wanted her son to be happy, with him.

She understood that.

After the tragedy, Moira made sure to keep some sort of contact with him. Sporadic invitations, Christmas and birthday cards, in her mid he was still worth remembering, even if the reason she came to know him was gone.

At times, Barry didn't know how to feel, until it finally dawned to him that Moira didn't think of him as a mistake and that much was a relief for the younger man. Moira could have entirely forgotten about Barry, instead she made of him a remembrance of her son's life.

Now, with Oliver back and their reconnection in progress, he wasn't surprised to see Oliver's mother again.

"Barry," she greeted him one day at the station, her smile forced.

"Mrs. Queen, it's great to see you."

Sometimes, Barry believed Moira would have liked to see someone like Laurel at her son's side, but others times he didn't know what to make out of her, like today. She looked composed, and even if her smile was forced, the sentiment was not directed as Barry.

"I need to ask you for a favor," she announced, her posture rigid and her hands clamp in her lap, "Between the two of us, it's important and..." he hesitated, "Private."

Barry nodded, still unsure of what was going on, but this as Oliver's mother, he feel the need to help her.

"Whatever you need."

After their talk, it was clear that Moira needed everything Barry could give. His knowledge, his discretion, his loyalty and, in some indirect point, his life.

Moira was asking a lot and she was aware of the heaviness of her request, she even was mortified, yet the woman was in a corner and in her mind only Barry had a remote chance of helping her, because he was not only clever, but he was loyal and caring.

He made a decision.

\------

Barry would be lying, if he said his life was normal. Since that faithful night when his mother die, Barry has not known normal, even living in a world that tried to impose him such thing in his youth, in the form of misguided concern of his foster family.

But this… this was not only abnormal but also very, very wrong.

After an investigation, relaying in the best of his skills and the equipment he had available, Barry came to the inevitable conclusion that The Queen's Gambit was sabotaged, the storm had been just... convenient.

Each day, he was diving into something that could get him killed, yet he was not running, he would not run away now, because he wanted to do this, for Oliver, even if he was not aware of Barry's doing. He didn’t need to worry about the past, and Barry told himself that once everything was done, then he would tell everything to Oliver.

The world was becoming crazier. The Vigilante was more active each day, each new story about him made him more deadly and still Barry's admiration for him was not doused or revoked, even if sometimes he was scared of what the man was capable of.

Another part of his life that was becoming prominent and constant was Oliver, whom wanted to prove himself in order to get closer to Barry, which was great. Yet, for some reason, Oliver had a wall firmly up in between them, Barry wondered why he was trying to shield part of his own self, silently asking what was to hide that wouldn’t let Oliver be completely honest with him.

Still, he let Oliver be, because he had a secret in his own hands, even he was not the one to blame. A secret that took five years of Oliver's life, his father and Sara...

There were days when Barry felt like chocking with such secret, but continued to smile as if everything was fine, as if he didn't notice Oliver's bruises and wounds under his clothes, as if he didn't knew Oliver was diving deep into darker water.

It was strange, how Oliver wanted Barry close yet kept him at arm's length, still Barry let him, because both needed it that way for now.

One day, Oliver came to his apartment, looking worse of wear and with no words, hugged him so hard Barry wondered if he was trying to keep the pieces of his own soul together.

"Oliver?"

He guided him to the couch, sitting across it, his back against the armrest and Oliver's upper body over his lap, his head resting on Barry's chest.

"Sometimes I wonder if I can fix something instead of breaking it," he mumbled, "Or someone."

Barry gently kissed the top of Oliver's head, "Yes, you can."

He chuckled, "You don't even know what I'm talking about."

"Oliver," he made the older man look at him, "There's good in you, please believe me when I say it."

He smiled, not entirely convinced but with perhaps a tiny less invisible weigh on his shoulders.

"You're too good for me Barr," the sad tone in that statement made Barry shudder, "Too bright."

He framed Oliver's face with his hands, looking at him in the eye, "I like you, Oliver, and you might as well accept that, five years seem to have made your memory fuzzy."

Oliver shook his head with a side smile on his lips and rested against Barry's chest, letting whatever was chasing him at the door to enjoy this moment. Barry was not sure how to help Oliver with whatever he as fighting, yet he was involved with the reason he was lost for five years and he didn’t plan to stop fighting, even if it meant risking his life.

He kissed the top of Oliver's head again, hoping to find the strength to keep on going, for him.

\------

Being sloppy was a something Barry couldn't afford. Not when he had Moira's secret in his hands, not when he was the only one who could possibly help her. It made Barry shiver upon thinking about what was as stake, how Malcom Merlyn was the one behind the attempt in Oliver's life, and the one holding leverage against Moira in order to carry out a plan so cruel, originated by the pain of losing someone.

He couldn't justify Merlyn, and destroying the Glades was not a solution, it will not cleanse the city nor bring his departed wife back or even honor her memory, it will only make things worse.

There was so much in his mind, so many thing he knew and had to pretend to be a stranger of.

It was a challenge, to smiled and laughed, pretend he was fine. Still he did so when he was with Oliver and react in surprise when Tommy told him his own father had financially cut him to teach him a lesson.

Barry, unsure if his advice was welcome or not, suggested Tommy might be a good addition for Oliver's plan to make a nightclub, and his friend, finding comfort in the normalcy that Oliver gave him, asked for a job and instead Oliver gave him a partnership.

It was nice, to see Oliver and Tommy working together, Laurel was coming around as well, accepting Oliver's friendship little by little. Sara was gone, sadly that couldn't never be changed, but Oliver was Tommy's best friend, as Laurel loved Tommy too much to deny him that friendship.

In turn, Barry continued to give his support and, behind their backs, working to save them from a danger he couldn't confess knowing.

As he worked in a way to help Moira, Barry sometimes felt the world around him was blurring. He heard echoes and sometimes phantom pain, but he had no way to understand what was happening to him other than stress.

Everything was manageable, until he started having nightmares.

He was in a white room with the man that killed his mother, the man in the lighting, dressed in yellow, with red eyes and a blurry face.

In his dream, the man taunted him and hurt him, over and over until he woke up. His nightmares were occasional, but when he had them he felt drained and weary.

His dreams, those nightmares, made no sense to him. The man in yellow he knew, but that was it, nothing more in those dreams made sense. He kept those dreams to himself, putting his mission first, willing himself to not be haunted by nightmares.

Investigating, tracking, forming a plan and a backup plan, Barry was putting himself on the line, he was aware, his only hope was to be successful.

His plan was more or less contained, in his mind he was waiting for the appropriate moment to contact The Vigilante, because he couldn't do this alone.

Christmas happened and Oliver was there yet he wasn't. The Gala was not a complete disaster, until Oliver got into a bike accident and everything around Barry was making less and less sense by the second.

Sitting at Oliver's bedside, Barry sighed.

"Don't scare me like that," he mumbled, feeling selfish because Barry himself was painting a target on his back.

"I'm sorry," Oliver replied.

"I know."

He squeezed his hand and smiled in the silence of the hospital room.

"I... I don't know how to be worthy of you, Barry," Oliver said, his eyes adverting Barry's at all times.

Barry moved to frame Oliver's face with his hands, forgetting about the suicide plan he was preparing, all the evidence he had gather, the video he had recorded and the documents he was stashing, he forgot about his nightmares and the fear of dying, he left everything aside to look at Oliver in the eye.

"You forget one important thing," Barry said, solemnly, "I'm the one to decide if you are worthy or not of my affection."

Oliver chuckled, and it was a wet sounds, sad but hopeful, "Are you?"

"Of course I am, not everything is about you," he moved closer, pressing his forehead to Oliver's.

"You're something else, Barry."

"As you are, Ollie."

\------

Using the burned phone The Vigilante gave Quentin, Barry arranged a meeting in the middle of the night at his laboratory in the station, outside working hours.

He was shaking, more out of fear and anticipation than cold.

"Barry Allen," The Vigilante's mechanical voice boomed and Barry looked at the man at the end of the ally, "You know about the list."

"I know a great deal of things," his managed to kept his voice leveled even if he was shaking like a left, "Heard me out, please, I... I don't know what else to do."

The Vigilante moved a few steps, "Talk."

Barry laid the packaged he had in his hands over the table, "There's a list of names, the people you have been taking down," The Vigilante gripped his bow and Barry forced himself to not panic, "The list part of a plan formed by Starling's elite, some willingly, some by force, the responsible is Malcom Merlin... everything you need to know is here."

He pushed the package towards the end of the table, where The Vigilante was coming closer.

"Why should I believe you?"

"A lot of people will die if you don't," Barry countered. "I can't save them on my own but you... you might be able to."

The man stood there in silence and Barry felt the little hope he had slowly burn.

"Please," Barry begged.

The Vigilante took the package.

\------

A few days went by with no word from The Vigilantly, but Walter was back safe with Moira, and Barry counted that as progress.

Walking back to his apartment from work, he felt a shiver ran down his spine. Something was wrong.

"You should have stayed out of this, Mr. Allen...."

Barry turned around, there was a man a few yards from him, looking menacing.

He ran, ran as if life depended on it afterwards and needed up with an arrow in the shoulder and pain blossoming in his head when he hit the ground.

The arrow was black.


	7. Oliver - II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver remembers the past to face the present. The Vigilante studies the information Barry gave him and runs against time to save him.

Back in the island, he was taught to forget. His loved ones were his initial beacon of hope, as he desperately needed one in such terrible situation. Thus, the possibility of seeing them again remained in his mind for some time, until the harsh reality hit him full force: he was no longer fighting to return but to simply survive. He was guided to forget about love in order to move on. Forget about Barry.

It was almost laughable, how an impact Barry made in his life in such a short time. Oliver was struck not by his appearance, but his laugh and smile.

When he was visiting CCU, the sound reached him unexpectedly, and seeing him was somehow an odd experience, it made him smile, but he couldn’t tell why. Barry was talking to his foster sister Iris and whatever she said earned a laugh from the brunette, the sound was so happy it eases Oliver's banal worries. He was amazed how such a simple sound could sooth him in the middle of his personal turmoil.

Tommy noticed immediately, of course, and in the beginning teased him about it. He had never seen Oliver in awe of another guy, although he knew Oliver had tendencies towards both genders, just not very open about his own.

It took two days and Oliver practically seeking to be in Barry's general proximity with any excuse for Tommy to understand that his friend was truly interested in at least meeting the younger, very nerdy and cute brunette guy.

Being Tommy Merlyn, it was almost laughable easy to get invitations to one of the Frat parties going on in the same week, inviting Barry and Iris was a little bit trickier, but he charmed his way into proximity to one of Iris' friends and asked her to extended the invitations. Step one – getting nerdy guy to the Oliver's proximity – worked. For step two he had to literally push Barry towards Oliver, but it also worked.

He should thank Tommy for that.

Oliver took the opportunity to know Barry, not just watch him – he also mentally slapped himself for being creepy. Part of Oliver was in constant panic because in his mind this guy was completely out of his league, Oliver Queen or not. But Barry, amazing Barry, proved him wrong and Oliver couldn't believe his luck. Of course, someone had to ruin the nice moment by targeting Barry for a prank and, really, Oliver should have seen that coming.

Still against the odds, they passed that annoyance, and moved forward. It has perhaps that time what gave Oliver the encouragement to ask Barry out, to have a long-distance relationship, to be faithful, until he came to a stop. Panic and overwhelming fear of failing chocked him, because what he was feeling for Barry was love, and love meant compromise, commitment and other things Oliver was utterly afraid to deal with in fear of not being able to do them right.

Oliver then ruined everything as he tends to do when in panic, and if not for Sara it would have been ruined even more, at least she was sensible enough to stop both of them, even if they already were at the sea.

He misses her.

The darkness of the island helped him to survive, but it was the light of the past what kept him sane.

Coming back from that hell made him fearless to many things, but not all of them. He carried darkness with him and whatever he touches could be tainted, his first instinct was to deny himself to ever see Barry again, but upon seeing his picture – the one he carried with him for five years – that thought was pushed aside. He couldn't give Barry up, not even to the darkness.

He needed something, someone, to hold on to his humanity. Diggle's companionship and friendship proved that statement as a fact, so in the mission he gave himself to save his city, he also wanted to be worthy of the love he once was terrified of.

Oliver chuckled at his own logic, being the Hood and loving Barry were things that couldn't possibly work together, yet...

He put his mission to save Starling City first, the purpose that kept him alive during those five years, to come back and honor his father's memory. That was the purpose, but not the reason.

The names on The List, becoming a vigilante, reconnection with his family, his friends, his—with Barry.

He was ready for the first two, contemplating the other two as well, but Barry is a whole world in itself and Oliver sometimes doesn't feel worthy of those looks, much less of the forgiveness that Barry so easily gave him. He should be angry with Oliver, who was a coward, but Barry isn't, because he is too amazing and Oliver doesn't deserve him, but he doesn't want to lose him. He is still afraid of messing everything up, he probably will never stop being afraid of making another mistake, but he can live with it because the peace that having Barry in his life gives him is a treasure.

He tried to be more than a killer in guiding Helena away from revenge and towards justice. That left him wary, exhausted and disappointed. Unconsciously went to Barry to desperately grasp that calm only he could make him feel. It would never seize to amaze him, how much light Barry held inside him to shine for the wrecked, like him.

Perhaps, for this same reason, he almost screamed in despair when Barry used the phone he gave Laurel. Barry was contacting not him but the Vigilante, seeking help for something that was bigger than himself. Even thinking Oliver kept his composure over the whole meeting, he was sick and short of breath because how could Barry be involved in this? The last person he expected to implicate in his crusade?

Diggle was the sensible one, inspecting the evidence and not rushing into conclusions, instead talking sense into his upset friend.

"The list," was the first thing he said, his attention in the contents of the package Barry gave put together, "He knows about it and so many other things, Oliver... you have to see this."

And Oliver did, because Barry was too good and even in his instinct to push him away – knee-jerk reaction of his _don't trust anyone_ mind set gained from the island – this was _Barry,_ and Barry was not his enemy.

The warehouse, the Queen's gambit, the sabotage, The List, his mother's involvement, the Undertaking. Everything was laid out, explained and detailed by Barry's neat handwriting, and wasn't that like giving yourself a dead sentence? Barry had to know he was putting his life on the line with each letter on paper, he was smart.

"Of course he knew," Oliver laughed with no humor, because he would shout himself hoarse otherwise, "He put others before him."

Diggle gave him a sympathetic look, "He's a good person, isn't he?"

"He's too good," Oliver said, gritting his teeth. "Always too good."

He had a target now, the man who forced his own mother to follow a plan so terrible it would kill thousands of people. Malcom Merlyn was the head of the pyramid, he had to focus on him and make him and his entire plan fall.

Oliver saw the wrecked Queen's Gambit for himself and remembered Barry's plead in the dark street.

_Please_.

"I won't fail this city."

\------

Oliver focused his mind into the plan, into not failing, not knowing that in the cracks of their circle, the Dark Archer got what he wanted.

\------

Barry was missing.

The police report was display in the monitor before him, his eyes fixed in Barry's face in the picture, it was a standard SCPD shot, probably taken for the employee badge. When he first was unable to find Barry at his apartment, he found it suspicions, now it was alarming.

"They did something to him," Oliver's voice was dripping anger, unable to contain the emotions causing turmoil inside him, "Malcom Merlyn."

Diggle looked at him and the report in the computer with a haunted expression, it had been 72 hours already, with each minute Barry's chances evaporated. He could be already dead if the Dark Archer was behind his disappearance, the man worked for Merlyn after all.

"We'll find him," Diggle handles him the phone, Felicity's contact displayed in it.

Oliver takes the phone, frowning at the choice but takes only a few seconds to understand.

It was selfish, to drag Felicity into the darkness that was his world, but as things could fall apart any moment, he couldn't give himself the luxury of failing. The metaphorical – or perhaps even literal – sword hovering over Barry's neck was enough to crack all his resolve, Oliver needs to save him, or he would also lose himself.

Talking to Felicity was not hard, his words flowed with the knowledge that he needs her help to save someone and his secret be dammed, it was clear he couldn't do this alone.

Perhaps Felicity saw something in his eyes, when he confessed being the Vigilante, when he asked for her help. Oliver would never understand what Felicity saw in him that night, but whatever she saw, was enough for her to join Oliver's team.

She shared what she knew, about Walter, about the List and how Walter asked her to investigate it, how she found out about Moira's involvement and everything that reached her knowledge in the subject.

In turn, Oliver shared the information Barry gave them, much similar to what Felicity had, but richer and complete, whole pieces of a puzzle begging to be solve.

This was much more than the list or the knowledge of its author. The details lead them to those involved in the Undertaking, of what it is exactly and how it was planned to be achieved, as well as the contingency plans Merlyn made to tackled and prevented it the right people do the right moves, everything in his mindset of destroying the Glades.

Barry knew this and left everything for the Hood to find, hoping his trust was not misplaced. Oliver's chest hurts, thinking of how Barry had put himself in the line of fire for all this and how he now was gone because of this.

No, no, not gone, just missing.

Oliver clings to that sliver of hope, to find Barry alive, to see him again, to tell him how much he means to him, because Oliver knows exactly how much – even if he was afraid to admit it. He can't lose Barry, he can't.

"I got something!"

Felicity's voice saying such words was the hope Oliver needed, his determination fueled.

\------

The first trace leads them outside the city and to a place that smells of death and decay, it was almost a blessing to not find Barry there. Still, Oliver was able to conclude that he had been in the place, there's bits and pieces that give it away, tear cloth and blood dripping to a stop outside the barren bodega, where the tires of a car left a mark.

He takes into the second trace, and clutching to the hope that is the right one, he follows. Felicity's instructions in his ear, he expected more of the city limits, a warehouse in the docks perhaps, even the glades, another shady place for a man to do terrible things. Instead his steps take him to the Merlyn Manor, connecting the dots with the information he already has – broken and shapeless, until now.

The Vigilante moves in the darkness of a house with no people in it. Malcom Merlyn is off to a ceremony, ready to accept an award for someone he really isn't and Oliver is tracing steps, ready to fight the Dark Archer, instead he finds Tommy.

"You're looking for him, aren't you?"

Tommy's voice is half broken, his fits clenching and unclenching in the darkness. He's wearing a suit, the tie half-done, but the mantle of emotions in his face, even in the darkness, are what really dresses him.

"Where is he?" Oliver hisses in his mechanical voice and Tommy looks pained and ashamed, walking in a dazed motion, Oliver following.

"I didn't know what to do," he pleads, moving upstairs instead of down, where Malcom could have trapped Barry, and Oliver doesn't know what is going on anymore.

Tommy opens a room – his own room, Oliver's mind recognizes – and there's Barry on the bed, bruised and bleeding, but alive. Oliver moves pass a shaking Tommy and gently pads Barry, addressing his injuries.

He has so many, Oliver can only state the most noticeable ones. The fingers of his left hand are clean and bandaged, some cuts in his face have butterfly stitches, a quick job for someone who little to no idea of what they were doing. There's dispersed supplies in the bedside table, this quick patch job had to be Tommy's doing and Oliver glares under the hood at his friend, who in turn looks too pale and upset at seeing the man on his bed to notice Oliver's anger.

"He needs a Hospital," there's irritation in Tommy's voice but it's mostly directed at himself, "I should have taken him there when I found him, I just... please, I tried but… he needs help."

Oliver wants to demand answer, wants to know why Barry is not awake, how he ended up in the Merlyn Manor and where Tommy found him and in what condition.

Instead he lifts Barry in his arms – earning a soft moan of pain from the younger man in the process – and leaves the manor, Diggle already waiting for him.

They drive straight to a Hospital, not as the Vigilante but as Oliver Queen, who found Barry Allen unconscious on the street.

They don't want to allow him to stay because he is not family, yet he makes his case and point to stays anyway, using his name and its weight to at least remained in the place, his insistence giving away what the Hood masked back in the Merlyn Manor – the fear that he was too late.

Detective Lance shows up and questions Oliver in both on and off the record, Oliver tells him what he can, but not what the Hood knows.

Lance confides in him that Barry was tortured; his medical report screams while Barry's still form remains silent, leaving Oliver shaking with rage for something he already knew yet became undeniable the moment it was stamped in a piece of paper.

He's already planning retaliation when the loud news in the waiting room snap him out of his thoughts. A sniper, Malcom Merlyn and a unregister bullet. Oliver doesn't feel any satisfaction in the knowledge that the responsible for Barry's current conditions is dead, he only wonders if it hurt enough.


	8. Barry - IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Archer has Barry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for description of torture.

He's bound, his arms stretched at shoulder level ropes burning the skin of his wrists and ankles. He can feel the many pipes against his back, same being used to keep him in place. His eyes obscured by the blindfold over them. The wound on his shoulder doesn't let him lean against the pipes, too hot or cold to the touch of his back only covered by his torn plaid shirt. He's shaking with fear and cold, but keeps the appearance of bravery as he is hit with another splash of icy water.

"Tell me."

The Dark Archer's voice sends a shiver down his spine, he's been asking about the information he collected, who knows what and how much, because the Archer already knows his involvement was due Moira Queen, but it was Barry who concluded the Queen's Gambit was sabotaged, Barry who had a tangible, legal declaration against Malcom Merlyn.

He doesn't said a word, his teeth chackling together from time to time, and his whole body shouting in pain when the Dark Archer uses him as a punching bag once again. He gasps and coughs when his captor punches him in the gut, taking the breath out of him. Barry stumbles and if not for his bonds we would have tumbled to the floor.

"It's a shame, really," his captor moves sand there's something oddly familiar in his voice, "She shouldn't have involved you."

"W-What are you d-doing?"

There's a rustle of clothing and the ropes tying his left hand to the pipes is cut, but the archer has his hand on his grasp, in between his torso and his arm, Barry presumes, because he can't move. Gloved hands are forcing his fingers still and panic overcomes him.

"No, stop!"

"Bite this, Mr. Allen," a piece of leather is shoved into his mouth and then pain ripples from his index finger to his whole body, a sharp knife under his nail. He screams in the gag and tries to move, the Archer mades no sound and only pushes the sharp instrument further until he has ripped the nail completely, then repeats the process with another finger.

By the time his captor reached his thumb, Barry is no longer fighting, sobbing quietly as he shakes uncontrollably and tears soak the blindfold obscuring his vision. His hand raw and exposed, he can feel the blood dripping from his open fingertips.

Suddenly the pressure is gone and Barry's hand falls to his side, a gloved had touches his face and he flinches hard, but his captor only takes the leather piece from his mouth before bruising the sweat soaked hair from his face in a mocking tenderness that make Barry sick.

"She doesn't deserve this loyalty," the archer murmurs and Barry wonders if his imagining the anger in his voice.

Barry releases a shaky breath, clutching his injured hand to his chest. His right hand still tied to the pipes as well as his ankles.

The sound of a sharp object being unfolded echoes and there's a cut on his cheek afterwards. Quick and clean, stings more than anything and Barry hisses in protest, earning a chuckled from his captor.

"How long will you last?"

The archer takes his injured hand by the wrist and Barry voices a protest that goes ignored. He quickly silences his protest when the tip of something sharp is pressed against the crook of his elbow, just resting there.

"P-Please stop," his voice is thin, breakable and the Dark Archer hums.

"Tell me, Mr. Allen..." He moves the knife, only an inch, slicing the skin open, not too deep, not yet, "Why are so loyal to Moira? This will be your downfall boy, make no mistake."

The sharp edge is pressed deep and too close to his vein, Barry moves his head away, against his right shoulder, he's going to die and he only wonders if Oliver would live, because he is the reason he's still fighting after all, he might be involved because of Moira, but he did it for Oliver.

The pain stops and vaguely he can heard a phone ringing over the echo of his own pitiful gasps. Barry is left alone for a moment, his body aching and his nerves breaking down one by one, he knows dead will come, but it's taking far too long to reach him.

The rustle of clothes is back and suddenly there's and sound slicing the air. Barry only feels the small arrow in his side when the other man hums. He can't move, too shocked to do so, not even when the dark archer cuts his bonds and lifts Barry over his shoulder, walking from the place where he was tortured and then throwing him to what Barry can only assume is the trunk of a car.

He pats the wound on his side, the small arrow painfully embedded there and relaxes because he never imagined he was going to die like this.

"Ollie..."

He wonders why the Archer didn't gave him a quick death.

\------

Coming in and out of consciousness, it's impossible for Barry to tell how long has passed. He can feel his body shiver, it hurts to breath or move so he just lays there in the dark.

"Oh my God!"

He can't see and then he remembers is because he never took the blindfold off. The person touching him is not the archer, this touch is soft, scared, someone who doesn't know what to do, perhaps.

The arrow is moved from his body and he screams because it hurt, it was not deeply embedded, it was not a mortal shoot but it burns and nonetheless seems to be killing him way too slowly.

Poison, his treacherous mind supplies and he wants to laugh, because apparently, the dark archer poisoned him on top of everything else.

"Barry, oh God, Barry, please hang on—Barry?"

He knows that voice, vaguely, but his mind is too slow right now, the only thing it can tell him is that the person talking to him is not the dark archer, is not Ollie either, but it's not danger.

There's a moment when everything is cut as he lost consciousness again, then he is laid on something soft and warm, his eyes no longer obscured.

He has seen this room before, there's vague recognition in his senses and the man staring down at him with worried – tearful eyes – he knows this person.

"You're going to be fine, I just, I just need... oh God, why where you in my father's car?"

Barry blinks, "D-Dark... A-Archer..."

The man before him frowns and it seems realization comes into his face, fear and sadness. Barry wonders what he said to makes this person react like this, he doesn't remember who is this but he cares, he's his friend, his mind supplied, Barry wished he could remember his name.

"Someone's coming," the man whispers and moves.

Barry closes his eyes again, he's too tired to care, he doesn't wake until another soft touch on his face rouses him and this time he's staring into Oliver's eyes.

"Ollie..." he whispers and he's smiling because he's got the chance to see him again, "Y-You're h-here..."

"Hold on Barry," he pleads and he's taking off a green hood, Barry vaguely notices, "We're almost there."

They are in the back of a car and Barry just leans against Oliver, the green leather smells nice.

\------

He's in the white room again, so bright it won't let him sleep so he gets up, pacing the short distance. Placing his hand against the wall, he studies the corners of the room and wonder how he got there.

_You should run,_ a voice tells him _, run towards me._

"S-Sorry..."

Barry turns around and he can see himself in the floor sitting against the wall, knees to his chest and tear streaks on his face. How he can be standing a few feet from himself, he doesn't know.

"I'm s-sorry..."

There's a body before the image of himself on the floor, eyes wide and unseeing, glassy, mouth half open in a silent scream and Barry knows a dead body when he sees one.

"I'm s-so sorry," whispers his dream self, trembling on the floor, his eyes on the deceased man, "I'm s-so sorry-y d-daddy..."

Barry frowns because this is not his father but he can feel the sadness in his mirror image, crying for a person dear to him, now lost forever.

The room hums and the man in yellow is standing there, moving in a blink to take his other self from the floor and onto the bed, strapping him down and patting his hair in a mocking gesture.

"This is your fault," the man in yellow tells him, "Never forget that."

The body is gone and so is the man in yellow, Barry can see himself sobbing on the bed, screaming and crying _why_ over and over again until the lights go out and he keeps crying.

Barry moves in the darkness, touching his mirror image who abruptly shuts up, his whole body trembling.

_I won't hurt you_ , he wants to tell him, but he can't speak, yet is as if a he said it, because the other relaxes a tiny bit.

_Sleep_ , he whispers, not know what else to say, _sleep now_.

The pain doesn't fade, but there's something less wrecked in the other's breathing, at least. Barry sits on the floor, folding his arms on the edge of the bed and cushions his head on them, willing himself to sleep as well, even if he knows he is already sleeping.

He extended his hand, touching his mirror image's. It feels so real he wonders if his actually dreaming or not.

"Who are you?" the other whispers, exhaustion already taking over him, "Don't go, please..."

Barry clutched the other boy's hand, because he couldn't promise to not leave.

"I'm sorry, I can't stay," he said to the other boy in the dark, "I think I'm dying."

"Don't," was the only thing the other told him, soothing pulsing blue light in their touch. "You have to live."

It was so... warm and almost… familiar.

\------

He wakes up in a hospital bed, the room's lights dimmed and the rhythmical beep of the heart monitor the only sounds disturbing the silence.

Adverting his eyes, Barry's sees Oliver's sleeping form in a chair at his side, on hand over Barry's right wrist. A soft smile spreads on Barry's lips at the image and he feels calm, something he has not feel in a very long time.

Oliver grunts, waking up in alert, his eyes traveling to Barry in a second, hyperaware of their surroundings. Barry blinks at him, slowly and in a drug induced painless cloud.

"Hi, Ollie..."

"Hi, Barry," he mimics the greeting and scoots closer, taking Barry's hand on both his own.

"You found me," Barry smiles, it's a tired expression but he means it wholehearted, "Ollie."

"I'm here," he says, kissing Barry's knuckles, "You're safe."

Barry sighing, he has no idea what happened since the Dark Archer poisoned him, but he is not dead and Oliver is here with him, that's enough to keep him calm.

The fingers of his left hand are covered in neat placed gauze and medical tape, casing the missing fingernails and the cuts on the nail bed, he doesn't feel any pain, probably due how doped in painkillers he must be.

"I thought I've lost you," Oliver tells him and Barry's attention is on him again instantly, "I... I can't—"

Oliver's voice breaks and Barry wants to tell him that here's here and that everything is going to be fine, yet Oliver beats him to it by moving closer, sitting on the bed and placing a soft kiss on the side of Barry's head, clutching his right hand with a gentle yet firm grip.

"I'm sorry," Oliver apologies and Barry shakes his head.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," he remains him, a tiny smile on his face. Barry blinks, a frown on his face, "I dreamed of you," he says, "You were the vigilante."

Oliver looks at him with a tender eye, shaking his head and something in his expression is saying _no more secrets_ , "It wasn't a dream, Barry."

It takes a moment for it to click and Barry gives a small giggle, "I should've known."

"I wanted to tell you," Oliver confesses and it feels like something he has been holding back for a while now, "But I thought I could protect you—"

"By keeping me away?" Barry asks, clicking his tongue. He pats the spot besides him on the bed and Oliver needs no further instruction, he climbs besides him, holding him gently. "That's stupid."

There's a chuckle as response and Oliver kisses his brown again, "Yeah… it is."

Oliver holds Barry's hand gently, running his thumb ever so delicately over the wrappings around Barry's fingers. The frown of his face makes him look tired and so helpless Barry had to press his head against his shoulder to distract him, even if he didn't move his hand out of Oliver's hold.

"It will heal," he tells Oliver, partially telling himself that as well, "And the nails will regrow, it's gonna be fine."

"Shouldn't I be the one telling you this?" there was a small tease in Oliver's voice and Barry smiled.

"Well," he closed his eyes, feeling calm, "I wouldn't mind hearing it."

Oliver rested his cheek against Barry's head, "It's gonna be fine," he said, "We're gonna be fine."

Barry had the feeling he was not talking about his injuries at all, but about them. With Oliver being the Vigilante, there was a conversation in their near future that needed to happen.

For now, both sat in a comfortable silence. Oliver close to him, Barry's head on his shoulder. For a moment, there was no pain or doubt.

\------

Barry's recovery is slow but steady. Being stabbed was great part of the problem, but the poison on the arrow was what nearly killed him. It was really hard to come up with an explication of why Barry showed clear signs of torture, so the young CSI went for the most reasonable route.

"You don't remember?" Quentin's question was low and calculated, he appears to be more worried about Barry no remembering than the information itself.

"Not much," he shook his head, "He wanted to know part of the investigation going on, but... I really couldn't give him anything."

Quentin's eyes traveled to Barry's hand and back to the younger man, "So he dumped you half dead in an alley."

"I guess?"

"That's what he did, actually," Quentin had no doubt about Barry's condition, his medical report screamed loudly, Oliver Queen finding him was a miracle in itself, otherwise he would be dead.

"Oh."

Barry lowered his eyes, slowly flexing his fingers. He remembers most of the pain the Dark Archer gave him, his questions about loyalty towards Moira and how he was his victim as results, but he kept that to himself. It didn't matter, Malcom Merlyn was dead and The Undertaking had been stopped, even if Barry had been kidnapped and tortured, everyone else lived and that was good enough for him.

"I'm glad you're okay, son," Quentin assured him and Barry nodded shyly.

It was the _son_ comment what brought him to the reminder of his family back in Central, he wondered if Joey knew, or Iris. He had made sure to change his emergency contact to Laurel, who more or less managed to not scream his concern off when she was called about Barry being in the hospital.

There was a knock on the door and Quentin made a face, Oliver was waiting by the door frame, looking between the detective and Barry, who smiled at him.

"Ollie," he said with an air of someone happy to see somebody, and he was.

"I'll be going now," Quentin gently patted Barry on the knee, "Call me if something comes up."

"Thanks for passing by, detective."

"Yeah…"

Oliver closes the door after a nod to the detective, his attention shifting to Barry once he feels safe in the space around them, he pulls a char closer to the bed, so he can rest his arms over the bed where Barry takes his hand and Oliver answers with small squeeze.

"Do you remember anything before found you?" the question is loaded and Barry gives him a look, "The Vigilante, but—"

"Bits and pieces," Barry mumbles, frowning, "There was someone else… someone scared, asking how did I ended up there, I think it was a guy."

Oliver maintains eye contact, his expression is calm, almost too calm and that tells Barry that he already knows the one that tried to help him was. The persona that gave Oliver time to find him and take him to the hospital.

"Do you want to know?" Barry's expression softens at that because it gives away more than Oliver would like. It’s a person both Oliver and Barry care, not a stranger then, so he nods. "Tommy."

Barry licks his lips and he doesn't really remember, but he can piece Tommy opening the trunk of his father's car to find him half dead, drag him to the house in a gentle hold, trying to not vomit when he notices the clear sings of torture, and not knowing what's wrong with him when the wound at his side bleeds black.

"He was so scared," Barry can't remember the voice or what Tommy said, he only remembers the panic in his tone. "He told me to hold on and… then you—"

Oliver's grip on his hand tightens a little, nodding in confirmation.

"Merlyn's dead," Oliver says as if Barry didn't know already, "All your investigation is safe," he remarks and Barry feels like a weight has lifted off his shoulders, "You saved the city."

"I didn't do it alone," there's a blush on his cheeks when he looks at Oliver, as if he was the answer to everything and Oliver has to smile because its perhaps the most tender thing he has seen in a while and never expected anyone to look at him in such sincere way.

He leans closer to cup Barry's face and kisses him, and when Barry smiles against his lips, he feels happy.

\------

"It's not that bad," Barry assures over the phone while Laurel arches an eyebrow at his side, "Iris—"

"So, being beat up and almost killed is not that bad, Bear?" Iris' voice carried certain tone that Barry knew very well and he tried to ignore the way Laurel was suppressing her urge to laugh as she kept cooking.

He was discharged the day before and Laurel, being his emergency contact, was the one who offered him a ride and promptly decided to come back the next day to make lunch. She was being nice and very friendly, but Barry could tell her mind was not 100% with him.

"I'm fine, really," Barry assures Iris and he can hear Joe yelling something in the background, "Laurel is here and so is Oliver, I'm okay."

"Oliver is there?" there was some ringing concern in the question.

"Well not right now, but he's coming for dinner," the plan makes Laurel smile and Barry feels a light blush on his cheeks, "Also, I'm happily doped so nothing hurts."

"You are taking this way to calmly, why aren't you freaking out?"

Barry takes a moment to answer, remembering a voice so very like his own telling him to not die, to live and not fade.

"I dunno," he says instead, "But really, I'm going to be fine."

They keep talking for a while and Joe takes the phone from Iris to talk to him as well. Meanwhile Laurel has finished the chicken soup she made, his father's recipe, and Barry walks over the kitchen to thank her. He was about to serve the plates when Laurel banned him back to the table to do it herself.

Barry ends the call with a promise to call again and visit soon, just as Laurel places a plate before him.

"I'm with Iris in this one," she points out, "You're taking this way too calmly."

Barry shrugged at first, "It's not the first time a person working for the police gets into a bad guys' nerves and ends up hurt."

"You were almost killed," Laurel sits down, "If Oliver haven't found you..."

"How's Tommy?" he asks instead, because he's sure Tommy is the reason Laurel is here but not fully, as her boyfriend is hurting, "I haven't had the chance to give him my condolences..."

Malcom Merlyn is the reason Barry ended up in a warehouse, bleeding and poisoned, but Tommy is Barry's friend and at the end of the day, he had just lost his father.

"I don't know," Laurel's voice carries doubt and worry, there's more to it but Barry can't unravel it just yet.

He wanted to tell Laurel that it was Tommy who found him in the trunk of a car and the Vigilante who reached him, he was almost sure Oliver had revealed himself to Tommy at the moment of the encounter, too preoccupied on saving Barry to care for hiding his identity from Tommy, who at the end of the day was his best friend and would keep his secret.

Tommy was in silence, Barry understood he mas mourning his father's dead but also there was something else there, he wanted to speak with him but the chance had not present itself just yet.

"He's still talking about the club," Laurel pointed out, "Both him and Oliver."

"He's probably using the project to focus in something besides, well, everything."

The Verdant was still going to open so at least Tommy was not shying away from them that obviously.

"I don't know what to do, Bar..." Laurel sighed, she looked tired, "Isn't it time for your meds?"

"If I didn't know better, I'll say you're avoiding talking to him," Barry pointed out after a spoonful of soup, then took the pills and swallow them, "So, you're going with Tommy after this, aren't you?"

Laurel bits her lip, "I should, shouldn't I?"

"Just be there for him," Barry suggests, "It will be a great support and eventually, he will come to you."

And that's exactly what happened.

\------

Formally meeting Diggle and Felicity it's a refreshing experience. Knowing Oliver has help in his crusade as the Vigilante gives Barry reassurance that he is not alone, that he deserves better. Diggle's support and Felicity's enthusiasm only confirm what he already knows, Oliver is a person who inspires others.

Barry is quick to be there whenever Oliver needs him, as much as his recovery - slow but steady - allows him, and some more.

He's not exactly surprised when Helena Bertinelli forces Tommy to open the door of the Foundry, but he follows in secret, finding the confrontation between Oliver and Helene, who is holding Tommy against the table in an odd angle.

Next thing he knows, Helena is on the floor out cold, because at some moment Barry knocked her out by hitting her over the head with one of Felicity's laptops of all things to use.

Oliver is at his side in an instant, checking if he's safe while Tommy is calling the police, the foundry safe in disguise of a storeroom.

"You're an idiot," Oliver tells him, lips against his brown, "A really brave idiot."

Barry can't help but giggle. He had police training, he is not completely useless, but he's still injured and recovering, so while his movement was well timed and received, his action was still reckless.

It was not the first time and it wasn't going to be the last.

\------

Sometimes, Barry wonders if he is ever going to be able to put all his ghosts to sleep, especially when they have the annoying habit of coming back to haunt him just as he's finding balance.

Laurel is concerned with his mother's claims that Sara is alive, but the only thing Barry can see is the last text message he received from her.

Everybody is running around, Oliver is knees deep in a Vigilante issue and Barry was banned from helping because he fainted early that day. He was sulking in the Verdant's office when Tommy placed a bottled water before him.

"You have seen better days," his words are light and teasing or at least try to be.

"Look at that elephant," Barry pointed towards the corner of the room with a smirk and Tommy glared at him, "Tommy please..."

Sitting in a chair at the other side of the desk Barry was, Tommy inhaled deeply before exhaling loudly, Barry lets him have this calming ritual without fuzzing about it.

"I found you in the trunk of one of my father's cars," his voice was stable, but his eyes look haunted, "There were specs of blood on the floor, I just... noticed it and found it weird and then I heard you, whispers, not real words, you had a terrible fever and.... I really thought you were dying and I didn't call the cops because I'm an idiot."

"That's not true," his argument was more due his friendship with Tommy than his recent actions, "The Vigilante--"

"I didn't call him, Bear," he sounded bitter about it, "He just showed up and took you to where I should have in the first place."

"Tom..."

His friend shook his head, conflicted, "It was my father's doing, wasn't it?"

"No," he was quick to assure him, ignoring the logic telling him it was, "The Dark Archer hurt me, not your father."

"You don't know how to lie Barry," Tommy smiled at him, his eyes watery, "Thank you, for trying to make me feel better."

"But... the Dark Archer did hurt me..."

"I'm pretty sure he worked for my father, otherwise I have no idea why will be end up in one of my father's cars with an arrow in your gut."

Tommy looked tired and drained but otherwise still strong, for what Barry could tell. His friend was going over a hard process, not only his father was dead but he was, perhaps, worse than the man Tommy thought him to be. Still, legally Malcom had not abandoned his son, who know was to take his father's legacy and continue, it was a lot to take for such a short time but Barry has confident Tommy could do it, alas, he was not alone in his path.

"I don't blame you Tommy," Barry's words were more for Tommy's benefic, he personally had nothing against his friend, "You were scared, and in the end, everything turned out fine."

Tommy took Barry's injured hand, his fingertips covered with clean gauze from this morning, "You were dying—"

"But I didn't," Barry turned his hand to take Tommy's, "I'm still here."

His friend nodded, hiding his teary eyes and Barry stood up and hugged him because he could've pretended to not notice Tommy's tears, but it was not in his nature to ignore someone hurting, especially someone close to him.

Tommy barked a wet laugh and Barry did the same.

"I just... I need to show you something," he sounds scared again and Barry looks at him, hands on his shoulders, frowning.

"What's wrong?"

"The Undertaking," Tommy breaths and Barry feels faint, "There's this plan to destroy the Glades and... I think it's not over."

Of course, Barry thinks, Malcom had backups for his terrible plan.

There's still time, he tells himself, he just hopes it's enough.

\------

Barry dreams of a white room and a steel room with a loud humming noise, it hurts his ears. In his dream, he can see the Man in Yellow tossing him around but he's watching his from afar, as if the person being forced to produce sparks was not him, only looked like him.

"Stop."

Barry's yowl goes unnoticed and his mirror image fights back, only to get hurt, the Man in Yellow gripping his hair so thigh it's painful, his blurred face too close to his mirror image, whispering something in his ear that makes him pale.

The world shifts and he's back in the white room, his mirror-self strapped to the bed with the Man in Yellow over him. He can see in his mirror face the fear in those eyes, even as he keeps himself calm and spats insults to the Man in Yellow.

"Stop!"

He moves, pushing the Man on Yellow but touching nothing. The room is silent and dark when he falls over himself, the sound back as he hears the mirror of himself pant in the dark.

"You're alive," his mirror-self notices, moving his head slightly, "I'm glad."

He's feverish and his voice breaking, Barry can't help him because he doesn't even understand what is going on.

"Where are you?"

It's a silly question, there's nothing in this dream but his own fears, yet Barry feels the need to ask.

"I don't know."

The world in shifting and Barry knows he's about to wake up, watching with glassy eyes as his mirror image falls asleep in the dark room.

\------

Moira denounces the plans for the Undertaking in a press conference, as she feels everyone is still in danger.

She wasn't wrong.

Felicity tracked the machines and were able to stop them before they did the most damage, but there was damage anyway. An earthquake started and it was stopped with tremendous effort but it was not prevented. Even thinking people had been evacuated from the Glades, the damage it's done and it will be weeks before anyone could tell the real extend of it.

Police reports show low numbers, Moira's prevention and work with SCPD was enough to make a difference, to prevent the worse of a terrible outcome, but tragedy still happens.

For Barry and Oliver, it was a close call to see Tommy injured, he almost didn't make it, but in the end, he was able to survive.

"I failed," Oliver says after the fact, still in shock and Barry hold him from behind, shocking his head, "Barry..."

"No," he argues, strong and firm, "A greater tragedy was prevented, don't blame yourself for things you can't control."

Oliver wanted to run, Barry felt it in his rigid posture, but slowly, very slowly, he relaxed in Barry's embrace, allowing himself to break and be repaired.

"You're a hero, Oliver," he tells him, because it's what he feels, "You have inspired countless of times since you came back to my life, as yourself, Oliver Queen, and what you do under the name of that hood."

They're in the Foundry and Oliver places his gloved hand over Barry's around his middle.

"I can do better than this, the city deserves better than this," he mumbles and Barry tightens his hold.

"Yes," he concedes and continues, "But only if you don't give up now, you can do better Oliver, day by day."

The silence stretches around them but it's not a heavy one but a calming tune, filling their need for reassurance in each other.

"Ollie," Barry presses his forehead against Oliver's back, "You are a good person Ollie, you really are."

Oliver turns to fully embrace him, resting his head against' Barry's. He doesn't say anything, Barry suspects he doesn't believe himself a good person, but Barry can remind him about it as much as he needs to hear it, until he believes it.


End file.
